


The New Mutants: The New Magus Saga

by Whitehat2018



Series: New Mutants: Children of the Atom [1]
Category: New Mutants, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitehat2018/pseuds/Whitehat2018
Summary: The New Mutants gather together for Kitty Pryde's upcoming wedding.  A new enemy initiates a dire plot.  Old friendships are put to the test, new friendships are built, and relationships unravel -- all this, and the New Mutants have to save New York City!  Oy.





	1. Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

               “Rahne, look out!”

               The retort of a gunshot woke Doug Ramsey from his uneasy sleep.  The nightmare still dogged him from time to time, vivid and feverish.  It was all there; the acrid smell of the Ani-Mator’s lab, the leer on the armored visors of the Smile-Faces, and the crack of the gunshot before the world just… stopped.

                After a moment to orient himself, he swung himself out of bed.  He pushed his feet into his slippers, and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his bathrobe from where it hung on the back of a chair before he lurched into the bathroom of his small studio apartment.  He flicked the light on and studied himself in the mirror.  His blond hair hung lank and messy, his eyes were bloodshot, and a few days’ growth of blond stubble crusted his chin.  He turned on the cold water in the sink, and splashed his face, before rubbing it dry with a towel.

                In the other room, his phone beeped, once.  The only one he’d given the number to was Warlock, before they parted ways again after Serval had folded; despite their distance, Warlock was wont to check on him.  He walked back into the oxther and picked up the phone, absently thumbing it open.  “Voice message?  Weird.  Playback.”

                “Doug.”  Kitty.  “Listen.  I understand that you wanted to be left alone.  Hell, I don’t know if anyone could’ve found your phone but me.  I’m worried about you.  I’ve been worried about you.”  Doug frowned, and put his thumb on the phone to end the recording, but when Kitty spoke again, it brought him up short.

               “Piotr and I are getting married, Doug, and I want you to be there.  Listen.  I’m going to be grabbing lunch at Lucky Day, it’s an Indian place in Brooklyn.  Meet me there?  Please?  Show up, Doug.  I really want to see you.”  
  
               Doug closed his eyes, and then set the phone down on the table with a clatter.  _This is a mistake_ , he thought to himself.  _I should just delete this._ He rubbed the back of his neck, and then turned to go into the other room to shower and shave. 

…

               When he arrived at Lucky Day, Doug greeted the hostess.  “I’m looking for a woman with brown hair,” he said, holding his hand up to Kitty’s height, “Bette Davis eyes, would’ve requested a table for two?”

               “Corner booth in the next room,” the hostess said, smiling.

               When he walked into the red-gold restaurant, she was there.  She had ordered a mango lassi but was playing with her straw in absent-minded disinterest as she studied her phone.  There was a strawberry lassi in front of the seat next to her.  _Salty strawberry lassi_.  _She remembered.  Of course she remembered, It’s_ Kitty, _you idiot._   He took a moment to get a read on her.

               _She is wondering if she wasted her time coming here._

               “Kitty.”  When he spoke her name, she looked up, and then pushed herself to her feet.  She exited the booth – he caught that her hip went through the edge of the table and out the other side, before she grabbed him, and clung.

               “Doug,” Kitty said, embracing him, “Oh my god, you _came_.   You’ve been such a ghost!  Do you know how _hard_ it’s been to leave you alone?  I mean, Remy said you didn’t want to be bothered, and I couldn’t pry where you were out of Warlock, but _god_ , Doug…”  She stepped back.  “You look terrible.”

               “Geez, Kitty.”  Doug’s mouth flattened into a line.  “Thanks.  I haven’t been sleeping well.  It’s not a big deal.”  He put his hands on her arms, and said, “Congratulations.”  He watched her expression soften.

               _Uncertainty.  She loves Piotr, but after all the heartbreak in her life, she’s full of doubts.  She’s ignoring them._

               Kitty gestured to the seat next to her, and then slipped back into her seat, once again passing through the edge of the table when her hip clipped it.  Doug settled in next to her and raised the straw to his mouth.  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

               Kitty glanced sideways at him.  “You already know.”

               “You want me at the school.”  _She wants me where she can keep an eye on me_.  Doug investigated his foamy drink.  “Let me guess.  Remy told you everything?”

               “About the state they found you in before they recruited you for Serval?  Yeah, he did.”  Kitty flattened her lips.  “I’m not thrilled with Dani about that.  _Suicidal ideations_ , Doug?”

               Doug sucked in a slow breath and closed his eyes.  “I’m not going to kill myself, Kitty.  I thought about it—and maybe at one point I was prepared to try, you know?  But I’m done with that.”

               “Depression doesn’t go away like that, Doug.  You needed counseling, you needed your friends.”  Kitty put her hand over Doug’s, and she met his gaze.  “And you don’t look healthy or happy, buddy.”  He opened his mouth to speak, and she held up her hand to silence him.

               “Don’t talk.  Just listen.  This is a conversation I should’ve had with you on Utopia, but it just didn’t happen.”  She tilted her chin.  “Listen, Doug.  I’ve seen enough tragedy in my life to make Shakespeare gag.  But there were three days in my life that almost broke me.  Those are the days that you, Illyana, and Piotr died.”

               “Kitty, I—” Doug opened his mouth and started to speak, only for Kitty to hush him again.

               “I wasn’t there—and when we came back… god, Doug.  I _lost it_ at Dani and Sam.  I told them I’d never forgive them for being so _stupid_.  And _Betsy_ —the less said about that, the better.”

               _She’s telling me this because she thinks I believe nobody cared.  Do I?  Maybe a part of me believes it._   “Kitty, why are you telling me this now?”

               “Because I want you to listen to me.”  She gave Doug’s hand another squeeze.  “I know our lives are a roller coaster ride through a car wash filled with gravy.  And I know that in a lot of ways there’s this huge gap between the people you knew and the people we are and that you feel left behind.”  She met Doug’s eyes again and leaned in close.

               “But god _damn it_ , Doug Ramsey, we _love you_ and we won’t be happy until you come _home_.  I want my bright-eyed boy back.  I miss your _laugh_.  I miss your music.  _I miss my friend_.  And the day I fully intend to be the best day of my life will _frelling suck_ if you’re not there to DJ my reception.”  She let Doug’s hand go.  “Come back to the school with me, today, now.  Whatever stuff you’ve got, I’ll send people to where you’re staying to pick it up.”

               Doug studied Kitty.  _She loves me.  She’s worried about me.  …She’s not going to take no for an answer._   “Kitty,” Doug said, closing his eyes – then he smiled, slightly.  “Okay.  I can’t—make any promises.  This is kind of a loaded issue for me, pal.  But I’ll try, for you.”  
  
               Kitty blinked, and then her grin widened.  “Oh, _thank you_ , my fallback plan was sending Kurt and Rachel to come drag you back.  This is so much easier.  So, so much.”  Then her grin widened.  “And wait until you meet Joshie, he’s _adorable_ , oh my _god_ Doug, Doug, oh my _god_ , you will _plotz_.”  She studied the menu, “The lamb vindaloo here’s excellent, I know that’s one of your favorites—"

               Doug and Kitty spoke in unison.  “So hot the cook would send it back.”  He grinned, and then said, “Throw in an order of pakoras and some pickled vegetables.”  He tipped the menu down with a finger.  “Sam is a great dad, I imagine.”

               “Total doting father, from what I’ve seen.  And _Joshie_.  He has his father’s eyes, and his hair.  Less than a year old and he’s already a total lady-killer.”  Kitty grinned, and continued, “And I don’t think his ears are going to stick out like Sam’s do, when he cuts his hair short.”

               “How are the others?”  Doug asked.  “I know some of what’s going on, but I’ve been out of the loop since Bobby’s fake funeral after he bought AIM.”

               “Dani and Amara are at the school.  Bobby is scheming something new up.   Xi’an is running her own operation, and being disgustingly successful, like always.  Illyana is wherever she feels like being.  Sam is trading off between Earth and the Shi’ar empire.”

               “Warlock still checks in on me,” Doug says, “But I haven’t been talking to him about his relationship.”  Doug raised his glass of water to his mouth.

               “Because you slept with Danger.  Remy told me.”  Kitty said, her eyebrow raising, and a smile curving up at the corner of her mouth as Doug choked on a piece of ice.  She patted him on the back.  “Well I don’t think they’re together anymore.  Danger’s taken up with Erik’s crew; so has Lorna.”

               Doug finished coughing and held his napkin up over his mouth.  “Warlock and I cleared that up.”  He crumpled it into a ball and dropped it onto the table.  “I didn’t want to be in the way.”  He looked up at Kitty.

               “You know, he had a say in that.  You pulled the same thing on him that you pulled on Dani and the others in San Francisco; you packed and left.”  Kitty’s expression was open, concerned, as she continued.  “The tracking device was my idea, by the way.  Warlock wanted to give you space, but he was concerned you’d hurt yourself without him around to protect you.  So, I told him to plant a bio-monitor on you, so if you did something stupid, he could come get you.  Blame me for that.”

               Doug’s expression went far away.  “It was a surprise, that’s for sure.”  His index finger drummed a Morse code tattoo on the tabletop.  “Rahne.  Rahne and haven’t said two words to one another since I came back.  …Kitty, how is she?”

               “She’s had a hard life, Doug, and in so many ways it started the day you died.”  Kitty tilted her head, and then went on.  “Facing you would be grabbing that pain at the root, you know?  She knows she needs to do it, but it’s hard, Dougie.”

               “I know.  I saw the way she looked at me, on Utopia.  She was afraid that I wasn’t the Doug she knew.  She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep her composure.  She was afraid of me.  So, I left her alone.”  Doug’s head dipped.  “I knew my mental state at the time would unsettle her.”

               “Yeah.  You were all… dreamy and distant and cold.  It made it hard for us to talk to you.  Some of us weren’t sure you were in there at all.  Even I was—bothered.”  Kitty said.  “But you distinguished yourself through your actions, on Utopia.  That was how I knew it was really you, pal—” she reached up and tapped Doug on the forehead, and then poked him in the chest.  “Your big brain.  And your big heart.  And that’s why it hurts to see you so… haggard and sad like this.  It’s like you’re _wasting away_.”

               Doug reached up and caught Kitty’s hand in his.  “You’re not wrong, Kitty.  I don’t want to talk about it right now, though, okay?  Let’s just have lunch, and then I’ll take things one step at a time.”

               Kitty looked up at Doug, and said, “Okay.  I’ve missed this, you know.  You and I, hanging out.  We grokked each other, back then.  It was fun, it was natural.”  _But it’s not like that anymore.  We’ve changed.  And the thought of losing you when this should be the happiest time of my life terrifies me._

               “Kitty,” Doug said, “Do you remember when I got that scholarship to the Massachusetts Academy, and you came with me, and the whole time you were hyperventilating, and I couldn’t figure out why?”

               “God.”  Kitty put her hand over her eyes.  “Doug, stoppit—”

               “You know you could’ve short-circuited that whole thing by just telling me I was a mutant, right?”  Doug’s eyes lit with something.  “When I put that together I was so _peeved_ at you.”

               “Xavier said not to tell you!”  Kitty said, her hands up.  “I had orders!  Stupid orders.  Orders that put us both in danger.  Orders I _really should’ve ignored_.”

               “Yeah, you should have.”  Doug raised his lassi to his lips.  “You know it was Sam that spilled the beans.  He had no choice.”  He took a pull from the straw.

               “It was the night Warlock broke into the house.  I know.”

               “Did I ever tell you how that went down?  I was sound asleep, and I woke up to someone throwing pebbles at my window.  Tink, tink, tink.”  Doug talked around his straw.  “So, I got up and I opened my window, and there was Sam – in nothing but a towel.  See, the girls had kicked him out of the house, so he went skinny-dipping in Breakstone Lake.  And when he took off to come get me, he didn’t stop to put on pants first.”

               “Oh my god.  _Doug!_ ”  Kitty put her hand over her mouth to stifle a snort.

               “So, I’m staring at Sam, half-asleep, already convinced that I was having the weirdest dream ever, when Sam calls up to me and says ‘Dougie!  We need yer help!  Ya gotta come back t’ tha house with me!  A monster from space’s broken into the school an’ we need ya to use yer mutant powers t’ come an’ talk to it!  Come on an’ Ah’ll fly us back to the mansion!’”  Doug adopted a perfect imitation of Sam’s eastern Kentucky accent.  “At which point I should’ve gone back to bed.  But I could tell that he was being sincere, that Sam wasn’t putting me on.  So, I went into my room, grabbed a pair of my fruit of the looms, and threw them out the window at him.  I remember the look on his face when he asked me ‘What’re these for?’ and I told him that I was going to go with him, but if he _could_ somehow fly, that meant he was going to carry me, and _that_ meant he was one stray gust of wind from the two of us getting to know one another really, _really_ well, so he better put on some underpants.  Now—” Doug’s eyebrows raised, “You know Sam’s always had a good thirty pounds on me, so you can imagine how snug my underwear were on him.  So, given that, I bet you can also imagine the look on _Bobby’s_ face when we got back to the house…”

               Kitty collapsed, in peals of laughter.  “ _Doug!_ ” _There’s the friend I know._

…

               The creature was hulking, misshapen.  It had a protruding head set with unevenly spaced eyes that glittered like rubies that had caught the light.  Its skin was leathery, folded and gray.  It had a gash of a mouth that was full of distressingly white, uneven teeth.  And it stank.

               It stood in the middle of a twisted hellscape, an Otherplace of rock that looked like it had melted and folded and then been twisted into jutting shapes as it hardened; a nauseating combination of smooth lines and hard angles.  The sky was blue, but thin and watery, and the star lighting the world was far away and weak.

               The other figure was slim, neat, dressed in a business suit worn under a blue hooded cloak, edged in gold; it flapped in the wind.  His face was obscured in the recesses of the hood, but his eyes glowed with yellow lines in the shadows, like they were threaded with hot wires.

               The creature spoke, its voice surprisingly, unsettlingly smooth.  Inquisitive.  “You have it?”

               “I have it.”  The shrouded man’s hand emerged from the recesses of his cloak, holding up a thick gold chain.  A baleful, hateful eye set in metal and sealed in resin dangled at the end of it.  It looked distressingly alive, watchful.  “I had to search a dozen realities to find one where Cecilia Reyes didn’t break it.”

               The creature let out a reverent breath.  “The Eye of Kierokk.  _It is mine_.”  It extended a long, clawed arm out. 

               The hooded man paused.  “Our agreement?”  He let the question hang in the air for a moment before he dropped the awful medallion into the creature’s clawed palm. 

               “Yes.”  The creature said.  “The Eye of Kierokk restored, the Ru’Tai to it as its army, and I as its second, its adviser, its Pilgrimm.”

               “It’s a start.”  The shrouded man said.  “Prepare your Ru’Tai, Pilgrimm – we begin soon.”

…

               It was early evening when the Shi’ar transport shuttle unstealthed and landed on the sports court at the school.

               “You know,” Sam Guthrie said, one hand on the controls, “You’d think Kitty would’ve thought about how hard it is moving aircraft into and out of New York City airspace.  You okay back there, Izzy?”

               In the back of the shuttle, Izzy Kane ticked a spherical plush alien at their fussing son as she unbuckled him from his restraints.  “You could’ve just sent a card.”

               “Everyone’s gonna be here, Izzy – for the first time in a dog’s age.  And you ain’t ever met my crew, ‘cept Bobby…”

               “Which is why I’m here, lover.  I know this is important to you.  Up, Joshie,” Izzy said, as she lifted the boy from his harness chair, and held him against her shoulder. 

               Sam cast his eyes out across the grounds, at the school.  For a time, his expression went far away.  Then he turned, and rubbed his son’s shoulder, who let out a sleepy coo.  “Let’s go, Joshie.  There’s a whole bunch of your aunts an’ uncles who ain’t met you yet.”  Then he turned, and shouldered their bags, before he hit the hatch release with his elbow, and strode out of the shuttle.

               Izzy watched him go, and then shifted Josiah’s weight against her shoulder.  She looked up at the school, and at her husband’s brisk step.  _So, this is the X-Men,_ she thought to herself, before she followed behind.  _This is where you come from.  This is what you’re hanging onto, Sam?_

…

               When Roberto DaCosta entered the foyer of the school, it was abuzz with activity.  Students were helping arriving guests with bags, and a few scattered people were lingering.  He took a moment to take it in.  On the other side of the room, Doug Ramsey stood alone, looking up the main staircase.

               “Doug!”  Bobby called, before crossing the room.  “It’s good to see you here.  You look good, man!” 

 _You look lost._  

               “Bobby,” Doug said, offering a cool nod and a small smile in reply.  “Kitty set aside a room for me; I’m just waiting for one of the students to break off and take me upstairs.”

               “Doug Ramsey?”  The boy that popped his head out of a doorway blinked… and there was a lot of blinking to do. 

               Doug waved a hand.  “That’s me.  Eye-Boy, right?”

               “Or Trevor.”  The boy gestured.  “Headmistress Pryde asked me to show you to your room.  She says we can compare notes about our powers and doing cold-reading on people.”

               “Oh, all right.”  Doug turned to look at Bobby and shrugged.  “Gotta go.”

               Bobby nodded, once.  “Listen… I want to talk, later.  Come find me, all right?  Or I’ll find you.  Whenever you get situated, you know?” 

_I am worried about you but I’m not sure how to say it, or if I have any right to._

               “Oh… sure, hot-shot,” Doug said, before shouldering his backpack and following Trevor up the stairs.

               Bobby watched Doug go up the stairs and turn out of sight before he rubbed the back of his head.  He turned when the door opened behind him, and his expression brightened as Sam shouldered his way through and held the door open.

               “Ah, hey, meu irmão!  You just missed Doug.”  As Izzy carried Joshie through the door, Bobby’s grin closed into a smile.  “Hey, Izzy.  I’m about to give your man a great big hug.”

               Izzy looked up and grinned in reply.  “You don’t need my permission, Bobby.”  She looked around and said “This school is barely controlled chaos.  How do you keep security here?”

               “Oh, mind readers, cold readers, speed-readers, guys who see through walls, guys who walk through walls… it’s barely-controlled chaos, but that’s my favorite kind of chaos, so.”  Bobby shrugged, and then turned to wrap Sam up in a hug.  “I just got here myself,” He said, over Sam’s shoulder.  “Kitty told me she got a ‘yes’ from everybody, including Mr. Finding Himself.”

               Sam nodded, once.  “We’re gonna go find a place to get Joshie settled in, the shuttle ride down here tuckered him out an’ I want him bright-eyed an’ bushy-tailed before I start introducing him to people.  But if you could get everyone together in one room t’ meet him, that’d be aces, buddy.”

               “Already got the wheels in motion, Sam.”  Bobby said.  “And I have a private table set aside for all of us at Jean-Georges tomorrow night.  I want at least one uninterrupted sit-down dinner with my fams.”

               Izzy whistled, low.  “Jean-Georges?  Sometimes I forget how rich you are, Bobby.”

               “It’s because I forget to wear my monocle.”  Bobby winked, and then put his fingers over his mouth.  “Anyway, I’m starving _right now_ , so I’m going to go raid the kitchen.”   He turned and trotted off through a set of double doors.  “Where is the kitchen in this fortress, anyway, bom deus este lugar é enorme...”

               “That guy,” Izzy said, watching him leave.  “He’s crazy, Sam.  But he’s the right kind of crazy.”

               “Don’t I know it,” Sam said, as he shouldered their bags.  “Come on, beautiful, let’s go grab a room.”

…

               In the dark confines of her room, Illyana Rasputina sat cross-legged in front of a bronze brazier, from which wafted acrid vapors – though she was heating it and burning the Myrrh using a scavenged hot-plate.  She had been casting divinations since the vision of that hateful, burning eye had awoken her from a doze early in the evening, and all portents pointed to the same warning:

               Disaster, in the truest sense; the cosmos out of order and ruin come with it. 

               Only the tarot cards had told her something different; in a moment of frustration, she had drawn three.  The Queen of Swords, and then the Fool, and then the Lovers, cast over the two of them.  “Ridiculous.”  She said to herself, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

               “Illyana,” someone called from outside of her room, “Sam and Bobby are here.  And people are starting to complain about the smell, could you douse it?”  There was a momentary pause, “Please?”

               Illyana rolled her eyes, and she turned off the hot plate; with a snap of her fingers she doused the burning myrrh before she conjured a stepping disk and teleported downstairs. 

…

               Rahne Sinclair looked up at the lit windows of the school from the lawn and closed her eyes.  She straightened her back, and then brushed her hair back.  “I swear,” she breathed, “Kitty Pryde has lost her damn fool mind, puttin’ the school down in the middle of Central Park.”

               She bent forward, and contorted down, until she took the form of a great, loping dire wolf.  She caught telltale hints of scent on the air; Bobby’s expensive cologne, something foul that someone was burning in an upper window – _Illyana_ – and hundreds of other scents, twisting together into a braid, chaotic and distracting.  She pushed past it and trotted up to the front door of the school, and past Rockslide, who had just emerged.

               “Oh.  Hey, ma’am,” the giant Mutant said, clearing his throat with a rumble.

               Rahne gave a short bark of recognition before she slipped past him and went inside.  She caught a familiar scent in the lobby but ignored it.  _Later.  It can abide a bit longer._   She caught the scent she was looking for, and followed it down a hallway, and into a classroom.

               “So” Xi’an Coy Manh said from where she was seated on a desk, “What I’m running is a paranormal investigation outfit.  With your abilities as a Valkyrie, I think you’d fight right in.  I’ve got Julio, and Illyana, and –”

               Rahne let out a huff.

               “Rahne!”  Dani Moonstar said, standing up.  She flung her arms about the great red wolf, as big as Dani herself, and squeezed tight.  “It’s so good to see you!”

               From behind, Xi’an moved to scratch Rahne behind the ear.  “Hey there, red,” she said, her eyes alight with amusement.  “Looks like the reunion’s almost underway.  The only one who’s not here yet, I hear, is Warlock.”

               Rahne’s ear tilted back, and she transformed back up to her human form before she leaned into Dani.  “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here.  It’s almost like it was when we were bairns.”  She closed her eyes.  “Almost.”  Her smile was bittersweet.

               “Hey.”  Dani stroked Rahne’s hair.  “It’s okay.  Everybody grows up.  It doesn’t change how we feel about each other.  Love isn’t diminished by time and distance.  It grows and grows… it’s a gift from the Great Spirit.”

               Outside of the school, there was a woman’s scream.

               Dani shot to her feet.  “What in the world—”

               The three of them abandoned the room, running outside.

…

               Outside, Izzy Kane stood in front of her son’s stroller.  She had put on her Exospex and had just fired an energy blast into a coiling mass of black and yellow techno-organic circuitry in front of her.

               Rahne raced up, in her hybrid form, and let out a noise of surprise.  “What the—”

               “Wolfsbane, right?”  Izzy said, as her Exospex flared to life, “Go get Sam, tell him to go to our shuttle and activate the fleet beacon.  We need to get Joshie out of here right now.”

               “Have you gone daft!?”  Wolfsbane exclaimed, before she bounded past Izzy and to the mass of techno-organics that were slowly pulling themselves together.  “Lock—are you all right?”

               There was a roar, and a flash of fire, as Cannonball descended to the ground, with Xi’an and Dani not long after him.

               _“What._ ”  Izzy said, confusion crossing her face.  “Sam, what is your friend _doing_.”

               By now, Warlock had pulled himself together, and produced two off-size eyes, and a smiling gash of a mouth, as his head extended on an overlong neck and a tendril slipped itself out of his still-collecting mass and embraced Rahne.  “Statement: Self is all right, selffriendRahne.  Self surprised selfunknown and spawn.”  He extended head further forward at Izzy and blinked.  “Please clarify why you attacked self, selfunknown.”

               Sam strode up next to Izzy, and looked up, beaming wide.  “Hey, Warlock!  How you been, buddy!?”

               Izzy’s jaw dropped.  “Sam.  Sam, _that’s_ your alien friend Warlock.  That is Warlock.  Sam, that’s a _Technarch_.”

               Sam’s mouth quirked.  “Huh?  Oh, yeah.”

               Rahne looked between the two, “Sam, you great idiot, you didn’t warn your wife, the bloody Shi’ar _Imperial Guardswoman_ , about Warlock!?”  She rolled her eyes.

               “Sam.  They _end worlds_.  Just a rumor that one’s been seen near Imperial Space requires an interception fleet be scrambled in response—”

               “Hey.”  Sam moved to gently take Izzy’s arm, and take her aside.  “Look, babe.  He’s _harmless_.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.  I mean that – I have literally seen him catch houseflies an’ let them out, outside.”

               “Sam, he’s a _world-killer_.”  Izzy responded, narrowing her eyes.

               “Yeah?”  Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and then he gestured to where Warlock was crouched over Joshie’s stroller.  He had extended several arms, which had taken various shapes, including Godzilla, Oscar the Grouch, a stuffed rabbit, and a ninja turtle.  “Well that world-killer’s makin’ hand puppets for your son.”

               “SelffriendSam!”  Warlock said, batting the rabbit at Joshie, who waved his arms at it and gurgled, “Self is so happy to meet SamSpawn!  What is his designation?”

               Izzy blinked, once.  “…Josiah,” she said, her voice faintly strained.  “His name’s Josiah.  But we call him Joshie.”

               Warlock’s eyes switched sizes.  “SelffriendJoshie.”  He said, “Designated after SelffriendSam’s deceased brother-unit.”

               Sam nodded.  “Yeah, sorta.  Josiah was my grandpa’s name… but we call him Joshie, after Josh.”

               Warlock stood up, and approached, though his arm that was transformed into the plush rabbit at the end stayed extended, as Joshie had grabbed hold of its ear and was tugging it, babbling happily.  “Self is most joyously happy that SelfriendSam and new SelfriendIzzy have iterated.  He is wonderful.”

               Izzy swallowed, and then extended her hand.  Warlock produced an arm, long and thin and black and shot through with gold wire circuitry and shook her hand with enthusiasm.  Then Warlock looked up, over Izzy’s shoulder, and disengaged from her.  “Statement: apology, SelffriendIzzy, self must—” he twisted around her, and broke into a lope toward two figures approaching from the school, “Greet Selfsoulfriend.  DOUG!”

               “WARLOCK!”  The embrace between the two was less of a hug, and more of Warlock expanding outward, wrapping Doug up into an embrace and pulling him into his own body, lifting him off his feet in the process.  Bobby, who had emerged alongside Doug, looked up at the two, and then reached up to put his hand on Warlock’s flank, only for Warlock to extend another arm and roughly embrace him into his side.

               “Oof!  Hey, buddy!”  Bobby said, closing one eye.  “…It’s good to see you too.”

               A golden stepping-disk formed in the yard off to the side, and Illyana rose out of it.  She reached up to pick an imaginary piece of fluff off her shoulder, and she looked at the others, before the corner of her mouth turned up.  “Somebody was babbling about a fight on the quad.  I see I missed it.”

               A bag rustled behind Izzy, as someone dropped it to the walk.  “I swear,” a voice said, measured, but teasing and wry, “This has been the best day.  My house is right next to the best shoe shopping in the world, and I get back to the school just in time to get in on a Warlock group hug.”   Izzy turned, just in time for Amara Aquilla to put a pair of pumps into her hand.  “Hold onto these, would you?  I am not about to walk on the grass in a pair of brand-new Manolos.”  Then the woman – blond as corn silk and staggeringly beautiful, Izzy noted – ran across the grass barefoot, with her arms out, to join in the embrace.

               “Just a little misunderstanding, ‘Yana,” Dani said, as she approached Sam from behind.  “Hey.”  She put her hand on his arm, “Did you notice—”

               “Yeah.”  Sam said, a smile on his face, “We’re all here.  All of us.”  He turned to look at Izzy.  “’Scuse me, beautiful, I gotta get in on this.”  He trotted toward Warlock, and then threw his arms around the alien in an embrace.  Dani joined him, one arm on Sam’s back, the other embracing Warlock.

               Izzy blinked, as Rahne loped past her, and Xi’an leisurely strolled by, tossing the woman a wink, before they both moved to join the group embrace.  She watched them, her hand on her hip, as Illyana casually approached.  “That—wow.”

               Illyana looked up, her expression cool.  “It has been a very long time since everyone was free to enjoy one another’s company without ulterior motive or a looming crisis.”

               “What about you?”  Izzy asked.

               “I’m not much of a hugger.”  Illyana said, as a Warlock-tendril slithered across the ground toward her, and then rose up, forming his face on the end of it.  “Yes, Warlock?”

               “SelffriendIllyana, Self politely requests your presence in the group embrace.  Self respects selffriend’s desire for physical autonomy, but self wishes to have all of self’s closest friends in tactile contact at this moment.”

               Illyana tilted her head, and then extended her hand to the tendril, which reshaped itself into a hand and slipped its fingers through hers.  She glanced toward Izzy.  “Warlock, however, is a hugger.  Excuse me.”  She let the hand pull her into the group embrace.

               Izzy watched, as a cool evening breeze caught her hair and blew it around her shoulders.  _So, these are the New Mutants, Sam?_   Joshie began to fuss, and she lifted him out of his stroller and held him close, as she watched her husband throw himself into the embrace of his oldest friends.  “Shhhh,” she soothed, both to calm her son, and her own growing sense of unease.

…

               Somewhere in the Midwest, a lonely figure leaned over a counter in an almost-abandoned truck stop.  His hands, pale and clammy, trembled as he held onto a cup of coffee.  His eyes were sunken, his cheeks burned with fever.  His clothes were filthy, and a dirty trucker hat was pushed low over lank red curls.  Sometimes, when the light hit him just right, it looked like his skin was threaded with black veins – or rather, wires.

               The door to the diner jingled, and someone walked-in.  He was slim, medium-height, round-cheeked, with a soft fringe of pale golden hair, and wide blue eyes, dressed in a neat black suit.  He walked up next to the red-haired man and sat, with his fingers laced together.  The red-haired man didn’t look up at him.

               “Your name is Russell Collins.”  The smiling young man said.  “They called you Rusty.  You were an X-Terminator and a New Mutant.  You were killed by a creature that called itself Holocaust.  Do you remember?”

               “I—” the red-haired man began to sweat, as his body temperature spiked.  The black wires became livider on his skin.

               “You were resurrected by a vampire named Eli Bard using a strain of the transmode virus and placed under the command of an ancient mutant named Selene.  You were part of the group that attacked the X-Men’s island fortress Utopia.  During the fight, you were thrown into the ocean, and you washed up somewhere on the California coast.”  The young man’s smile widened.

               “I—It’s so hard to think.  My mind, it’s all—” Rusty put his hand on his forehead.  “Why can’t I remember—”

               “I have the answer to that.  It’s because the transmode virus infecting your system contains a command input for Eli Bard, who’s dead, and Selene, who’s not, more’s the pity… but she’s not one to think of the detritus left after her schemes.  I can help you.”  The young man’s smile widened.  “You can call me Nicky.  Here.”  He moved to place his hand over the back of Rusty’s.

               Rusty let out a gasp, as the touch of the young man’s hand raised livid black lines along his skin.  They crawled up his arm, and he began to shake.  “What are you doing—”

               “Easy.”  Nicky said, his eyes half-lidded, “I’m re-programming Bard’s techno-organic virus, shutting down the command input that’s creating the static in your head.  Similar lines manifested on Nicky’s fingers, threaded burning gold.  I can’t cure it, not right now.  But I can give you your mind back.”

               Rusty’s eyes widened, and he swallowed, before he licked chapped lips.  “…Oh god.  _Sally_.”

               Nicky looked up, and his smile vanished, briefly.  “Don’t think about that right now, Rusty.  Listen.  I need your help.  Come with me.”  He moved to take Rusty’s arm and lifted him out of his seat.

               “Hey.”  A waitress said, coming out of the back, “Listen.  You don’t look so good, stranger.  I called the police, and they’re gonna come and take you to the hospital—” she stopped, at a gesture from Nicky.  “There’s no need for that.  I’ll take care of him.” Nicky an arcane gesture with his fingers, and incanted syllables with each permutation of the gesture.  As he spoke, a mote of light appeared in front of him, and expanded outward into a doorway.  Then he helped Rusty off his stool and guided him through the door.

               It vanished, behind them, with a flash of golden light, an electric crackle, and the stink of ozone.

               The waitress stared at the spot where they had been, befuddled.

…

               Doug settled onto his bed, and with a tired sigh, bent down to unlace his shoes.  His shoulders sagged, and his head bent forward.  _How is it that now that I’m here, all the exhaustion I’ve been putting off has caught up with me?_

               A knock sounded on his door, and Doug took a moment to curl sock-clad toes, before he got up, with a sigh, and then moved to open it.  As he did, Bobby shouldered his way inside.  “Hey,” he said, “Ready to have that talk?”  He held up a six pack.  “I brought beer.”  He looked around, and said, “Is Warlock here, pretending to be a lamp or something?”

               “No,” Doug said, before he walked back to the bed and dropped down onto it, “Boom-Boom shanghaied him, she wanted to spend some time catching up with him.”

               “Oh.  Cool, it means I don’t have to ask him to leave.”  Bobby set the six-pack down on the room’s empty computer desk, and then pulled out a bottle opener before he carelessly popped the top on two of them and passed one to Doug.  “Because this is a conversation between us, Doug.”

               Doug absently tasted his beer, and then turned his head to look over at Bobby.  “I’m listening.”

               “Good.”  Bobby took a long pull of his own beer, and then made a face.  “I love America, but man the hipsters here need to ease up on the hops.  This is like the Emma Frost of beers.” 

               “Cold and bitter?”  Doug said, his eyebrows raising.

               “Got it in one.”  Bobby dangled his drink from two fingers.  “Look, Ramsey – this conversation’s been a long time coming, between the two of us.   We never got along, back in the day.”

               “Mmmmm.”  Doug said.  “That’s true.  You knew exactly what to say to piss me off.”  He closed his eyes, and said, “And to tell you the truth, I was jealous of you, Bobby.  You were the golden boy -- rich, charismatic, had cool powers—”

               “All of those things are true.”  Bobby said, as he leaned back.  “Would you believe that I was jealous of you, too?”

               Doug’s eyebrow went up.  “I believe that you’re sincere when you say that, if that’s what you mean, but I’m finding the _idea_ a little hard to buy.”

               “Oh yeah?”  Bobby said, “Who did we turn to when things got weird?  Who always seemed to have some sort of new approach to problems in his bottomless bag of tricks?  Who got the cool alien BFF?  Who’s the one making the shit-eating smile in the class picture while Betsy gives him a well-earned hero’s hug?  Not me, Dougie.”  Bobby took another long pull of his beer.  “You were the smart one, and I was jealous as Hell.”

               Doug sat up, slowly.  “But I never meant to—”

               “Meant to, nothing.”  Bobby’s eyes lit.  “I felt the way I felt, and the fact that you made me feel stupid’s not on you.”  When Doug opened his mouth to speak, Bobby held out a palm to silence him.  “Doug, over the past while, I have proved I can hang with the big boys.  I’ve led two teams of Avengers, I’ve played chicken with Nazi Captain America.  And do you know what I learned about myself?”

               “…That you’re not stupid?”  Doug asked, his fingers curling around his beer.

               “That I am a FRICKING GENIUS.”  Bobby replied, his eyes alight, laughing.

               “…Humble, too,” Doug said, a hint of a smile crossing his lips.

               “Yes, well, we all need some character failings, and if I must be brilliant and handsome, then let pride be my downfall.”  Bobby looked up.  “When you died,” he said, matter-of-factly, “I felt terrible.  I prayed to the Blessed Virgin, and she showed me all the times that I could’ve been your pal – chances that I missed, because I was a stupid child.”

               “You sure didn’t seem happy to see me when I came back.”

               “That’s because you were some sort of spooky robo-Doug!”  Bobby said, gesturing, “And you tried to kill Amara.  No matter what people said, I was _convinced_ you were a fake, some sort of ticking bomb with the face of our friend that was going to blow up on us.”

               “I know.”  Doug admitted.  “I couldn’t think of a good way to convince you otherwise, hot-shot.  Not like I did with Amara.”

               “And you didn’t owe it to me to convince me, either.  But I _was_ watching, you know. As time went on, I saw bits of you, little snips of the guy we knew, like you were beneath the surface of yourself, swimming back toward the light.  Not unchanged, but more—you.  Do you know when I first looked at you and realized that we were friends, like, you and I?”

               “Madripoor.”  Doug said.  “When I was coaching you on how to pick up girls.”

               “Yeah.  Because you were taking the piss out of me the whole time, but you were also trying to help me score, the way a buddy would.  And you had my back in that barfight, even while you were trying to talk me outside.”  Bobby lifted his bottle, the fizzy beer sloshing inside of it.  “That was the day I knew you were in there, one hundred percent for certain, and that the Blessed Virgin had answered the prayer I made to her on the day we buried you.  Mother Mary interceded and gave me a second chance.”

               “Funny,” Doug said, his voice soft, “I said a similar prayer when I thought you’d died trying to move that tree.  I wasn’t sure I believed in God, and I’m still not –”

               “God exists.”  Bobby said, “The proof is sitting right here in front of me.”

               “Anyway,” Doug said, with a sigh, “I told myself if only I had a second chance I’d try to be a better friend to you.  But—”

               “But I wasn’t dead, and we were both still stupid kids.”  Bobby said, with a shake of his head.  “And we got right back to it after Mojo’s fat ass got dealt with.  But we’re adults _now_.  Anyway, where was I --- right.  But then True/Friend messed you up—and he messed you up _proper_ , camarada.  We could all see it, how you withdrew back into yourself.  But there was nothing we could do, and we all had choices to make, and you weren’t the only one of us who was lost.”

               “Sam.”  Doug said, with a soft nod.

               “Sam.”  Bobby agreed.  “And I think I did all right there, getting him calmed down, getting him treatment for his PTS, getting him back in the game—”

               “You did.”  Doug said, sitting up fully now.

               “But now it’s my turn to help you.  Doug, do you want to know another thing I realized?”  Bobby’s expression darkened.  “They all thought I was going to go bad.  Xavier, Magneto, Cable – they all saw an angry, hot-headed kid with more money than sense and they figured I’d sell out, or worse.  And do you know what they didn’t do?  What not one of those bastardos bothered to do?”

               _They didn’t ask me._

               Doug put his hands in his lap.  “They decided the content of your character without asking you.”  He blinked, slowly.  “Aw, _Bobby…_ ”

               Bobby leaned forward.  “ _Yes_!  Nobody asked me what I believed in, where my loyalties were!  I had to figure it out for myself, and it took me a long time.  And they were all wrong about me, Doug.  They all thought I was going to go bad.  But I didn’t—” a grin crept across his face.  “I have an ‘X’ on my heart, Doug.  I am a believer in Xavier’s way.  _That_ is who I am.”  His expression went more serious.  “And I look out for my fams.  _You_ are family.”  He reached out and put his hand on Doug’s shoulder.  “So, let me cut through all these lingering doubts about your place here, and whether you’re going to turn into a monster like the True/Friend.  I can do it with one question: Douglas Ramsey, _what do you believe in_?”

               Doug blinked, taken aback.  “Bobby, I—” he opened his mouth, and then closed it.  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

               “You don’t have to answer, not now.”  Bobby said.  “But I know that by asking you that question, I’ve got you _thinking_ about it, and that’s the first step toward finding the answer inside of you.  And while you’re finding that answer, remember that you are part of a family that _will_ catch you when you fall.  _I_ will catch you if you fall.  All you have to do is shout, my friend.”

               “Geez, Bobby,” Doug said, his eyes cast downward.  He took in a shuddering breath.  “That means a lot to me.  So, so much.”  His fingers curled, around the beer bottle.  “I don’t—I’m a mess, upstairs, Bobby.  And in a lot of ways, I think I have been since I came back.  It’s like there’s a ton of disconnected wiring in my brain, and the more that gets hooked back up, the more painful it feels.”

               Bobby moved to slide on to the bed next to Doug, and then he slipped an arm around him.  “If you need a doctor, I will get you the best doctors.  If you need to lie on a tropical beach and ogle the ladies, I will find you the nicest beach with the hottest babes, with all the drinks with little umbrellas in them that your nerdy heart can stand.  And if you just need a shoulder to lean on?  I’m right here.”

               Doug let out a shudder, and then closed his eyes, as the tears rolled down his cheeks.  He sobbed, gently, as Bobby reached out to take the beer out of his hand.

               “Go ahead and cry, Dougie.”  Bobby said, “Cry till there aren’t any tears left.  Enough tears have been spilled over you, buddy, you rate some of your own.”  He took a pull of his beer, and tightened his arm around Doug, as he cried.

               Later, after Bobby emerged from Doug’s room, he found Kitty and Warlock waiting outside.  Bobby put his finger over his mouth.  “He cried himself to sleep.  Been a long time coming, too, I think.”

               “Selfsoulfriend has been hurting for a long time, beyond self’s ability to correct.”  Warlock admitted, his expression falling, exaggerated mouth turned downward.  “Conclusion: Selfsoulfriend Doug needs the support of his many Selffriends.”

               “Is he going to be okay, Bobby?”  Kitty asked, her eyes on the door to Doug’s room.

               “Do you plan on any outcome but ‘yes’?”  Bobby said, his eyebrows raising.

               “No.”  Kitty said.

               “Me either.”  Bobby said, with a small smile.

               “Self concurs.”  Warlock said, sprouting square shoulders, then squaring them further.

               “Let’s let him rest.”  Kitty said.  “And I’d like to grab a little shut-eye myself.”

               “Self will stay here in the event that Selfsoulfriend has unpleasant nightmaredisruptions to his rest cycle.”  Warlock said, before he leaned against the door and produced a satellite dish from his ear and transformed his hand into a screen.  “Self has installed Netflix and will take the opportunity to get caught up on Voltron.”

               “Yeah, and I’m going to go bandage the damage Amara inflicted on my credit card when she took it shoe shopping, then sack some z’s myself.  It’s been a long day.”  Bobby said, with a nod to the others.

…

               Tijuana, Mexico.

The air in the club was hot and sticky.  So were the people, writhing and grinding against one another – but they stopped dancing and parted, as the stranger passed through.  He was masked, and wore a hooded cape, with a suit underneath.  He made his way through the club to the back, where bouncer stood in front of a door.

               “VIP only.”

               “I’m here to speak with Manuel de la Rocha.”  The hooded man tried to push past the bouncer, only for him to stop when the bouncer reached out and seized hold of his arm.

               “He’s not entertaining guests.”  The bouncer said.

               The hooded man looked up, and for a moment, his eyes burned, behind his mask.  “He’ll speak with me.”

               The bouncer’s pupils contracted, and his face fell slack.  His arm dropped to his side, as the hooded man walked by. 

               Manuel de la Rocha was seated on a low couch in the middle of the room.  He was shirtless, with a few day’s growth of beard, a bottle of tequila in his hand, and numerous women, all in various states of undress, curling against him.  One held a cup to his lips.

               “Is this the best you can think of to do with yourself, Empath?”  The hooded man said, as he walked through the doors.  “Lying here in some sticky orgy, drinking yourself to death?  And here I thought you were true-born aristocracy.  That’s what I always heard, at least.”

               Empath looked up, suddenly and sat up, before he pushed the girl away, causing her to fall off the couch and land with a yelp.  “And just who,” He said, his eyes narrowing as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, “Do you think you are to interrupt me with such an insult?”

               The hooded man laced his fingers together in front of him.  “You can call me the Magus.  Don’t try using your powers on me – this,” he tapped his mask, “Is enspelled to protect me from them.  I have an offer for you, Empath.  What if I told you that you could get revenge on everyone who’s ever wronged you.  The X-Men, the New Mutants, the White Queen, the Hellfire Club – everything your black little heart desires.”

               Empath set his jaw, and leaned forward a bit.  “…I’d say make your case, Magus.  You have my attention, but I can’t say how long you’ll be able to keep it.”

               “I think you’ll find this offer too tempting to pass up.”  The Magus opened his hands.  “I’m putting together a little group to spearhead an initiative of mine.  I want you on board, but I also need your powers to bring the next member I have picked out under control.  I think you’ll find this interesting.”

               Empath stroked his short beard, and then stood up, slowly.  “Tell me more.”

**NEXT: Magus and Empath spin a web!  Dinner disaster!  Magma vs. Smasher!**


	2. The Devil's Trill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Mutants meet for a reunion dinner, while the Magus gathers the last of his forces...

The space station hung alone, a rotting derelict above an abandoned miner’s moon.  Only the last vestiges of its systems functioned – the thin, reedy hiss of recycled air through ventilation ducts; flickering and failing lights.

               A golden portal opened out into an empty corridor, and four figures emerged from it.  First, Rusty, in fatigues, skin still clammy-pale, threaded with black veins; after him Empath, dressed similarly.  Behind him, the Magus, cloak drawn close behind him, and finally the hulking, lurching figure of Pilgrimm.  They emerged into the hallway, and the gateway closed behind them.

               Empathy looked up, at filmy white strands of filament connecting the floor and the ceiling, and he grimaced.  “Where are we, Magus?”

               The Magus held up his hand, a mote of light glowing in his palm, illuminating a darkened hallway.  “It used to be a Skrull mining station.  It was abandoned when their empire contracted, and then it was taken over by an enterprising group of freebooters.  It went dark shortly before the Annihilation Wave struck.”

               “So why are we here?”  Rusty asked, a scowl on his face.

               “We’re here for the reason that the place went dark in the first place.  Did you know, before your time, the New Mutants had an encounter with a beautiful alien creature.  She had empathic powers like yours, Manuel.”

               Empath looked up.  “Why would you need some empathic alien, when you have me?”

               “You’ll see.”  The Magus said.  “Rusty, clear the way.  But move slowly.”

               Pilgrimm let out a curious noise.  “These strands,” it said, teasing one with a claw, “They are made to trap the unwary.  Similar creatures exist on the world of Ru’Tai; they are patient, but if there is no food…” it looked up.  “Above.”  
  
               The Magus reached out and brushed strands of webbing away from a side console, and golden techno-organic lines flared to life on the tips of his fingers, their touch bringing the dead console to life.  It sifted through information rapidly, before displaying the location of an open atrium.  “There.”  He gestured to the others and turned down a side corridor.  “This way.  She’s following us, but she won’t confront us here.  No… she’ll come for us in her lair.”  He continued walking.  “So, as I was saying, the New Mutants encountered an alien being with incredible empathic powers whose kind undergo a remarkable chrysalis.  They begin as humanoids, and enter a pupal stage lasting thousands of years, at which time they emerge as great beings of incredible power.”  He approached a set of double doors.  “Pilgrimm?”

               Pilgrim strode forward, clawed toes splayed on the grating floor of the corridor before he nodded.  “It waits for us inside.  Pilgrimm is curious, to see what it has brought us all this way.”  It fingered the Eye of Kierokk, delicately, and then gripped the eye in its long, clawed fingers.

               The eye flared to life, and the reinforced steel door to the atrium disintegrated in a blast of light.  A moment later, Magus strode through.  “She left the company of the New Mutants to seek a supposed planet of mystics where she could enter her chrysalis in peace.  The atrium was dark and rose high above the entrance to the chamber.  “She found it; but so did the Annihilation Wave!  And then scavengers found her.  The ignorant fools brought her back here, and broke open her chrysalis, convinced some sort of treasure was hidden inside…”

               He flung up his hand, illuminating the ceiling above in a bright light.  Massive strands of webbing stretched from wall to wall, forming a crude perch; and in the center of it hung a hideous being.  It was white, the color of cream, black-eyed, with long, spiny legs, the front two ending in clawed manipulators, black eyes, and a great arachnoid body.  Its face held a vague notion of the feminine, with long, flowing platinum hair reminiscent of spiderwebs.  Drool slavered from its open, fanged maw.

               “Holy _shit_.”  Rusty said, his mouth agape.

               “Mother of God.”  Empath breathed, stepping backward toward the doorway.

               “Fascinating.”  Pilgrimm murmured, a clawed hand stroking its chin.

               “Hello, GOSAMYR!”  the Magus crowed, to the creature.  “You’re looking RADIANT this evening!”  He laughed.

               And then Gosamyr dropped on them, her scream distressingly like that of a woman in pain.

…

               The maitre’d waved Bobby past.  “Mr. da Costa, so _good_ to see you.  Follow me.”

               “Gosh, this place is fancy,” Sam said.  He adjusted his tie and smoothed out his suit-coat and looked at Izzy.  “Y’ look great.”

               “There aren’t many opportunities to put on a little black dress back home, lover.  It’s a nice change of pace.”  Izzy said.  “And I really appreciate your friend Jubilee looking after Joshie for the night.”

               “Well she’s always been good with kids, and I figured since she ain’t a vampire anymore, he couldn’t be in safer hands.”  Sam beamed.

               “…Right.”  Izzy said, her mouth thinning.

…

               Back at the mansion, Jubilee looked at the hole in the ceiling.  “So that’s why Sam said to warm up the baby wipes before you wipe his tushie…”

               Morph peered through the hole in the ceiling.  “Miss Lee, a naked rocket-baby just shot through the floor of our room and then out through the roof.  It’s okay though… Quentin went to catch it.”

               Jubilee pinched the bridge of her nose.  “…Great.”

…

               Amara hung her clutch purse across the back of her chair, as Illyana settled in at the table.  “I just love this place.  The egg caviar is _divine_.”

               “I’m here for the champagne.”  Illyana murmured, “And lots of it, since it’s on Bobby’s dime.”

               Amara nodded, enthusiastically, and then leaned in.  “Good gods, Illyana, how long has it been?”

               “We lead busy lives, Amara.”  Illyana looked up, her eyes half-lidded.  “It’s good to see you feeling more like your old self, by the way.”

               “I’m not going to let a pig like Mastermind crush my spirit.”  Amara said, before the corner of her mouth turned up.   She watched Bobby chat up the waiter, as the others filtered into their seats.  “Do you want to know a secret?  That skunk stripe Bobby is rocking drives me _wild_.”

               “It’s still Bobby wearing it, Amara.”  Illyana replied, coolly.

               “Oh, don’t be such a thief of joy.  Oh, look at Doug!”  She gestured to him, “He looks like a college professor!  A _cute_ one.  Tweed and leather elbow patches really suit him.” 

Doug caught Amara’s eye, flushed, and tugged at his bow tie.

               “He can read lips, you know,” Illyana murmured, sotto voce.

               “I _know_.”  Amara replied.

               “I think the three of us are the knockouts tonight,” Dani said, moving to seat herself next to them both.  She was dressed in a sleek black dress, her hair held back by a silver clip, setting off her feathery Cheyenne earrings.  “Warlock—” she gestured to the techno-organic alien, “Sit next to me.”

               Warlock, who had assumed the guise of a brawny, dark-haired young man for the evening – and then perhaps unwisely decided to imitate Doug’s suit, absent-mindedly generated an arm to pull out the chair, before seating himself, with his forearms on the table.

               Xi’an entered, neatly dressed in a sleek white dress that set off her neon pink hair, and she seated herself on the other side of Warlock.  She beamed at him, as his arm elongated, dropping over her shoulder.  “Hey everyone.  Dani, you look _hot_.  I am digging those earrings.”

               Rahne was the last to arrive.  She was dressed modestly, in a high-cut black dress, worn under a shawl.  “Honestly I dinnae know how you don’t freeze to death.”  Then she smiled.  “But Dani’s right; we look great, don’t we?”

               “Hear hear,” Illyana said, a faint ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

               As the others claimed seats, the waiter arrived, pouring a healthy measure of champagne for everyone.  When he departed, Bobby silenced the conversation by tapping his fork against his water glass, lightly.  “I’d just like to take a moment to say a little something and propose a toast.”  He cleared his throat.

               “I don’t know when we’ll all be in the same place at the same time again.  You can never say for certain, with the lives we lead.  For a long time, it was a fact of life,” Bobby said, “That if we did get together, there would be two empty chairs at the table.”

               Doug looked down into his napkin.  Illyana merely listened.

               “But by the grace of the Almighty, there are no empty chairs at this table tonight.  We are all here.  Some of us have changed our callsigns since then, but tonight, I raise a glass to us using our original handles.  Cannonball, Mirage, Magma, Warlock, Sunspot, Karma, Magik, and Cypher.  And I would be remiss if I did not take a moment to welcome Sam’s beautiful wife Izzy to our family.”  He smiled at her, and then stood and raised his glass.  So tonight, I raise this disgustingly expensive champagne, which I had flown in from France just for tonight, because I am _awesome_ … in toast, to all of you.  Because you, too, are awesome. And I love you all. To the New Mutants: First Class.”

               The others raised their glasses, touching them together at the center of the table.  “To the New Mutants!”

               Many glasses of champagne and several courses later, Karma turned to Dani.  “I’m so glad to see that Face is doing well.”

               “He’s been impossible all week, since he heard you were coming to visit.”  Dani tipped her champagne flute to her lips, emptying it.  “Like a big kid.”

               Doug cleared his throat, and then looked up.  “So… Rahne.  You’re looking well.”

               Rahne flushed, slightly.  “It’s good to see you too, Dougie.  I don’t—”

               Doug raised his hand and held it out to Rahne.  When she reached out to him, he placed it over hers, in the middle of the table.  “Rahney, you don’t need to talk.  I can tell how you feel.  I just want you to know… I’d do it again in a second if it was to protect you.  Okay?  …Nothing more needs to be said.”

               Rahne blinked back tears, and then spoke with a voice thickened by them.  “Oh, you great idiot!  Amara did my makeup tonight and now my eye shadow’s goin’ to run.”  She hurriedly dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.  “I’ll look a fright!”

               Doug grinned, softly.  “You look beautiful.”

               Rahne slapped at his hand, but she smiled.

               Warlock looked over at Sam.  “SelffriendSam, self wishes to congratulate you and selffriendIzzy on creating a wonderful iteration in new selffriendJoshie.”

               “Thanks, Warlock,” Sam grinned, “That means a lot.”

               Warlock went on.  “Self was speaking with SelffriendDani earlier and she stated that selffriendSam chose to engage in covenant:marriage with selffriendIzzy because they sired selffriendJoshie.”

               The table went quiet.

               “ _Did she,_ ” Sam said, his tone soft.  “Did she _really_ , ‘Lock?”

               “Yes!  Self did not understand this at the time—”

               Xi’an grabbed Warlock’s arm.  “Warlock!  Enough.”

               Izzy rose from the table, slowly.  “Sam, I think I’ve had too much champagne.  I’m going to go for a walk and clear my head.”

               Sam moved to put his hand on Izzy’s shoulder.  “I’ll come with you—” she pulled away.  “Izzy!”  Sam was left standing, as Izzy grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant.

               Bobby stood up.  “Why don’t we all take five—"

               Doug pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Oh, ‘Lock.  How could you, buddy?”

               Warlock’s face sagged.  “Self said something wrong?  Self does not understand—”

               Illyana refreshed her champagne and raised it to her lips.

               Sam, in the meantime, had rounded on Dani, who had risen from the table.  “How _dare_ you say that.  You had _no right_ —”

               Dani met Sam’s gaze, and her stare back sparked.  “Guthrie, I can say what I want.”  She turned to Warlock.  “Lock, I wish you’d kept that to yourself.”

               “Guys—” Bobby raised his hand up, to try to placate the two of them.

               “ _Shut up_ , Bobby!”  Sam and Dani said, in unison, before turning back to one another.

               “Everyone at this table knows you married Izzy Kane because you knocked her up, Sam.”  Dani’s eyes sparked with anger, as she met Sam’s gaze.  “Don’t get mad just because it slipped out.”

               “Dani, I think you’ve had too much bubbly,” Rahne said, standing up.

               “I don’t think I’ve had _enough_ ,” Doug said, into his napkin, as Illyana obligingly refilled his glass.  “Thank you.”

               “Why don’t you tell me what you _really think_ , Moonstar,” Sam said, pointing at Dani, his own gaze gone icy cold.

               “Selffriends, please stop—” Warlock started to rise, before Xi’an grabbed him again, and shook her head.

               Amara leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and flattened her lips into a thin line.

               “I think you got the fool notion in your head to do the ‘honorable thing’ and you married some woman who _barely knew you_ and _knew nothing about your life except what you’d told her_ and then she decided she wanted to leave Earth in the rear-view mirror and drag you halfway across the galaxy to the Shi’ar Empire.”  Dani said.  “Because the people who care about you don’t mean a _fucking thing_ to her.  And maybe we don’t mean anything to you anymore, either.”

               “Is that how all of you feel?”  Sam asked, looking around the table, “That ah’m abandonin’ y’all ‘cause of Izzy?”

               “His accent’s slipping,” Doug said, sotto voce, to Bobby, “He’s about to lose it.  _Say something_!”

               “Sam…”  Bobby said, holding his hands up, “…We don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing the honorable thing—”

               Doug put his forehead in his hands.  “Oh God.  Not _that,_ genius—”

               Sam’s mouth tightened into a scowl, and he spun on his heel.  “I’m out.  Sorry everyone, Ah seem to have ruined dinner.”  He stormed out.

               Dani looked down, and then blinked her eyes, slowly.  “Damn it, I shouldn’t have said that.”

               Rahne looked at the doorway, from where she was clutching Dani’s arm.  “No foolin’!”

               “I’ll go after him,” Dani said, before Amara rose to intercept her.

 “No, Dani, you’ve said enough.”  Amara put her hand on Dani’s shoulder, and met her gaze, before she shook her head.

               Warlock started to sob, as the integrity of his human morph failed.  “Self has upset selffriends by making an inappropriate statement!  Declaration:Sorrow!”

               “’Lock,” Doug said, rising from the table to console the technarch, “It’s not your fault!”

               Amara looked toward the door and gestured.  “Bobby, just throw your black card down.  Xi’an, Rahne, please calm Warlock down, I’d like to be able to eat here again someday.”  She rounded on Bobby and Doug.  “You two go talk to Sam.  I’m going to go after Isabel.”  She grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant, her heels clicking against the floor, before the door swung shut behind her.

               Illyana looked up from her half-empty flute of champagne.  “Just so you know, Bobby, I am having a spectacular time.  Dinner _and a show_?  If the tira misu is half as good as I heard it was, this will be a perfect night out.”

               Bobby gave Illyana a dirty look, before he pulled out his credit card and tossed it on the table, and then ran out of the restaurant.  Doug followed, hot on his heels.  He tossed a wave behind him at the girls.  “See you later, I guess.”

…

               “Back OFF, you nasty—” Rusty raised his hands, flames collecting around his fingers, as he sprayed fire across the floor, causing the charging Gosamyr to rear back, her clawed manipulators rising and snapping at the air as she howled in fury.

               The Magus raised his hands, a shield of arcane energy springing to life as Gosamyr raised a leg to strike down at him.  It glanced off the shield, and he took a step backward.  “Pilgrimm, you have to hold her long enough for Empath to use his powers to pacify her!”

               “Remarkable.”  Pilgrimm said, “So much power and rage, contained in one creature.”  It moved with surprising quickness, springing onto Gosamyr’s back to try and pin the beast to the ground, long claws digging into her back.

               Empath looked up from behind a pillar.  “Magus, you’re a LUNATIC.  This thing’s going to eat us alive!”

               “Nothing ventured, nothing gained!”  the Magus fired a blast of energy, staggering Gosamyr, as she bucked Pilgrimm off, hurling it across the room.

…

               “Isabel,” Amara called, holding up her hand as she walked after her, “Wait.  I want to talk to you.”

               “I don’t think there’s a whole lot left to talk about, Amara.”  Izzy said, turning to look at the other woman, “I got Dani Moonstar’s message, loud and clear.”

               “Dani has many gifts.  Tact is not one of them.”  Amara shook her head.  “No, I want to talk to you.”

               “Listen.”  Izzy met Amara’s gaze, “I’ve been playing along because it makes Sam happy, but to be honest the sooner we get off the Earth, the happier I’ll be.  The more I see of the galaxy, the more I come to realize Earth is a barbaric backwater.  The choice between a civilized society like the Shi’ar Empire and Earth’s backward chaos is a no-brainer.”

               Amara pursed her lips and put her finger over them.  “First of all, you can miss me with the Shi’ar Imperialist party line.  The X-Men have had a front-row seat for every palace intrigue, coup d’état, and succession crisis in the Empire for _years_.  More advanced, I’ll give you.  More _stable_?  Not in the least.  The next time a D’Ken or Vulcan takes the throne, how safe will you or Sam or your son be?”

               Izzy stopped, and blinked, taken aback.  “I—”

               “Listen.  I understand.”  Amara stepped up and put her hand on Izzy’s arm.  “You’re a fierce and powerful woman, and you’ve worked hard to earn everything you’ve achieved in life.  I respect that.  You love Sam, deeply – and to tell you the truth I don’t know if there’s a person who has spent any length of time with Sam Guthrie and _doesn’t_ love him.  He’s wonderful.”  She gestured with a hand in the air, airily.  “He’s kind, brave, deceptively smart, and easy on the eyes.  Not my type, of course – he’s entirely too _nice_ for me.”

               Izzy snorted, and turned.  “I’ll give you that.  So… maybe you can clarify something to me.  Why is Dani Moonstar such a—” Her hands tightened into fists.  “…Such a bitch?  How could she say that?”

               Amara tilted her head gently, and smirked.  “I’ll thank you not to call her that, she is one of my oldest and dearest friends.   Walk with me, Isabel.”  She turned, to walk down the street.  The wind picked up, blowing her red dress in lazy waves.  “Dani was depowered by the Scarlet Witch.  She has refused to let it slow her down or shake her commitment to the X-Men.  She’s forged like steel.  And like steel, sometimes she only has so much flex.”

               Amara turned, to Izzy.  “How did you feel the first time you looked into Sam’s eyes?”

               Izzy quirked her mouth, and then tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.  “Seriously?  …I thought my heart stopped, for a split-second.”

               “A common refrain.  Now, imagine being a fifteen-year-old girl, who’s struggled her whole life to be independent, in control, a pureblood Cheyenne who’s felt the lash of racism leveled against this country’s most invisible minority her whole life.  And then here comes this boy.  He’s tall, rangy, all knees and elbows, and his ears stick out a bit and he has a stupid haircut, and an accent so thick you could spread it on bread.  He’s domineering, he fusses.  But he’s _strong_.  And he’s _brave_.  He’s a colonizer, and everything you’ve pushed back against your whole life.  And then you look in his eyes…”

               “…And your heart skips a beat.”  Izzy said.  “God, you’re serious.  She’s—”

               “Since they were both teenagers.  And too proud to admit it, even to herself, for most of that time.  They finally bent enough to admit how they felt, and stole a few moments, at Utopia.  But fate intervenes, as fate often does, and its currents parted them, and then he met you.”  Amara’s shoulders rose and fell.  “And she feels… the way she feels.  She’ll accept it, but that doesn’t mean she’ll ever like it.  Or you.”

               “Yeah, well, she’s not exactly on my Christmas card list, herself.”  Izzy went on.  “There’s this whole side of Sam’s life that—I’m outside of, alien to.  And it keeps calling him back here… in the Shi’ar Empire, him being a mutant doesn’t mean _anything_ , Amara.  But here—”

               “It’s humanity struggling with its own evolution.  It was the will of the gods that humanity never do anything the easy way.”  Amara said.  “You’re struggling against the fact that Sam has a massive family here.  His mother, his brothers, his sisters.  The X-Men…”  Amara rounded on Izzy.  “How dare you?”

               “Excuse me?”  Izzy responded, meeting Amara’s eyes.

               “How dare you think that a person can simply abandon the ties that bind?  How selfish can a person be?”  Amara’s eyes flashed, glowing briefly.  “When you marry someone, you don’t just marry the parts of the person that appeal to you and expect them to leave the rest behind.  You marry them _in toto_.  That meant that by marrying Sam, you acknowledged the X-Men as a part of his life, and now as part of yours – your family.   If you weren’t prepared to do that, then you shouldn’t have married him.” 

               “What _Dani_ sees when she sees you, is a person who decided she was too good for a garden watered by gallons of blood and tears, and who decided to stand between her beloved friend and the people who love him.  It is a grave insult, and one she won’t forgive, or forget.  And nobody can hold a grudge quite like Danielle Moonstar.”

               “And how do the rest of you feel?”  Izzy asked.  “And what exactly am I supposed to do?  I’m a member of the Imperial Guard.  I’ve sworn an oath of fealty to the Majestor and the Empire.  My life is out there… but Sam can’t leave earth behind.  He says he will, but—”

               “You can see it’s like he’s cutting out his own heart.”  Amara put her hand on Izzy’s shoulder.  “Recall what Bobby said about empty chairs.  We would miss Sam terribly, if he were gone.  But it’s his life to live the way he chooses, and if he chooses a life out among the stars with you, then that’s the end of it for us.”  She laid her hand over her heart.  “We’ll keep him here.”

               Izzy let out a sigh.  “But it’s not a question of you guys letting go.  Is it.”

               “Sam is one of the most family-oriented men I’ve ever met.  He’s like a sheepdog.  He has a natural urge to herd people, watch over them, and protect them.  What’s a herding dog separated from his flock?  A part of his mind will always be on Earth, always _fretting_.  Always worrying.  You know that.  And when something happens, and word gets back to him—” Amara said.

               “He’ll lose his mind.”  Izzy said.  “I’ve already seen it happen.  Pacing the floor, hands behind his back, shoulders tense.”  Her chin ticked up.  “Amara, I don’t want to take Sam out of your lives.  And I don’t want to hurt him, _god no_.  But I swore an oath of service—I can’t ask you to understand.”

               “I understand perfectly.  You have an obligation to the Empire and the Majestor rooted deep in your personal honor.  You want to keep your oath and be with the man you love.  Is that too much to ask?  No.”  As Izzy nodded, Amara added, “But a marriage is a covenant between two people, a sharing of both of their lives.  The X-Men on one side, and you and Joshie on the other, and Sam caught in the middle.  Do you mind if I share something with you?”

               Izzy’s eyes narrowed, slightly.  “Go ahead…”

               Amara laughed, aloud.  “Bobby da Costa and I have been in love with one another since the day we met.  He’s the most beautiful, charming, _wicked_ man I’ve ever known.”  Her expression softened, faintly, and grew sad.  “But we can’t be together.  We’re both so… _much_.  We fight, we argue, and then we’re sick to look at one another… until a little time passes, and we’re drawn to each other again.  I will not compromise who I am to make life easier for any man – I am Amara Juliana Olivians Aquilla, a Patrician of Nova Roma.  And if Bobby sacrificed a piece of who he was to be with me…”  
  
               “…You wouldn’t want him anymore.”  Izzy said, watching Amara, deep in thought.

               Amara smiled again, sadness falling away.  “Right.  I love him.  Even the parts of him that I cannot stand.  And he loves me, even when I’m impossible.  So, we accept that we can’t really be together.  We steal a moment here and there, play pretend for a weekend, and each of us quietly hopes the other will fall in love with someone else and find what we can’t give to one another.”

               “So, what does this have to do with Sam and I?”  Izzy asked, as she looked around at the people walking past them.

               “A marriage, like any covenant, requires compromises be made.  But sometimes you must ask yourself the important questions: not just what are you willing to give up, but what are you willing to see your partner give up?  I have no doubt Sam is willing to convince himself to leave Earth behind for you.  His word is his bond, and he loves you, besides.  You have a child… you’re bonded together for life.”  Amara gave Izzy a soft smile.  “But the Shi’ar Empire is not another city, or state, or even a country.  It is a very, very long way away from the people your husband loves.  And there are so, so many of us.”

               “You’ve given me something to think about, Amara,” Izzy said.  “I’m… still not sure what to do.”

               “That’s a decision you and Sam will need to make together.  I just wanted to make sure you understand just what he’s giving up for you.  And what a precious gift that would be.  More to the point, I wanted to let you know you’re a part of this family now, too.  Because if Sam loves you, then _we_ love you.  And Joshie has an army of aunts and uncles who’re itching to spoil him.”

 

…

 

               Gosamyr let out a shriek, as Rusty sprayed her with fire, causing her to back up step by step into a corner of the chamber.

               “Pilgrimm!”  the Magus called, “Use the eye and stun her before she goes up the wall!” 

               Pilgrimm rose up, bleeding ichor from a dozen gashes, but the creature didn’t seem to notice.  It raised its amulet, and the eye turned, to face Gosamyr.  The center of its pupil glowed, then the eye was illuminated in a sickly radiance.   Then there was a sense of something _intruding_ into reality, less a blast of energy than its warping—

               Gosamyr was hurled into the far wall, and her scream was stilled, as she was stunned by the impact.

               “Empath.  Now!”  the Magus waved, bringing him on.

               “This is madness – it’s lunacy!”  Empath emerged from behind the twisted spire of metal where he was hiding, and approached – as he did, Gosamyr raised her head and hissed, drool oozing from the corner of her mouth and onto the metal floor.

               “Look at me,” Empath breathed, his eyes glowing, “You love me.  You want to protect me.  You will obey me.”  Gosamyr’s eyes met his, and her breathing stilled.  “You want to obey me.  You want… to obey me.  You love me.”  He reached out his hand, and swallowed, before he ran his fingers through Gosamyr’s hair.  “Good girl.”

               The Magus looked up and drew his cloak about himself.  “Excellent.  And then we were four.  There’s just one more member of our team to retrieve.  I’ll handle _her_ myself – since I need the four of you to spearhead the next part of the plan, before we arrive.”

               “Why are we doing this, anyway?”  Rusty asked, as he doused his flames.  He wrinkled his nose at Gosamyr.  “Ugh.”

               “I’m preventing a bad future from coming to pass.” The Magus let out a slow breath and clenched his hands into fists.  “That’s all you need to know for the parts you’re going to play.  In exchange for helping me, everyone gets what they want.”  He relaxed his hands and touched Rusty’s forearm.  The gold techno-organic wiring mapping his hands flared to life, against the livid black techno-circuitry streaking Rusty’s skin.  “Isn’t that enough?”

               “Ru’Tai await Pilgrimm’s command.”  Pilgrim said.

               Empath narrowed his eyes, and looked up from Gosamyr, after withdrawing his hand.  “Revenge.”

               Rusty closed his eyes and withdrew his arm.  “…Yeah.”  He turned to walk away, his boots thumping on the corridor. 

               Empath’s eyes narrowed.  “He’s weak, Magus.  You can’t rely on him to see this through.”

               The Magus’s eyes narrowed behind his mask.  “Don’t worry about it.  Rusty is set up to play exactly the role I need him to play in what’s about to unfold.”  He turned, with a flourish.  “Now then.  Let’s be off.  Come, Gosamyr…”  The Magus beckoned to the spider-creature, and laughed, as she recoiled, “It’s time to go dancing!”

…

               “Sam!  SAM!”  Bobby called, sprinting down the street after his friend, “Wait!”  As Sam turned to look over his shoulder at him, Bobby winced.  “Three, two, one—”

               *Fssssssh-WOOM!”  Flames flared to life around Sam’s legs, as he shot up into the air, and rocketed toward the top of a nearby building.

               Doug skidded to a stop behind Bobby.  “Oh, _god_.  _Really_?”

               “Well,” Bobby said, “If he really didn’t want to talk to us, he wouldn’t have just hopped onto a high-rise.  Bobby turned to Doug and said “I’m trying to keep my powers use to a minimum right now.  Not super important.  But I’m gonna go after him.  Catch up?”  Bobby’s skin darkened, and motes of black energy crackled around him, as he steadied himself, and then lept into the air, after Sam.

               Doug looked up as Bobby arced through the air toward the rooftop, and he frowned, as he counted the number of stories in the building.  _“Great_.”

               When Bobby landed on top of the building, he found Sam sitting on the edge of it, looking out over Central Park. 

               “Go ‘way, Bobby,” Sam said, without looking back.  “Leave me alone, okay?”

               Bobby approached, and dropped next to Sam.  He turned and looked at him and grinned like a Cheshire cat.  “No.”  When Sam looked away and moved to stand, Bobby grabbed his arm.  “Uh-uh.”

               Sam let out a ragged breath, and then dropped back down into a sit.  “…Sorry I ruined dinner.”

               “Like all our best screw-ups, that was a team effort.”  Bobby said, before he threw an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

               The roof access door burst open, and Doug came through it, straightening his coat.  “Really, Bobby?  You couldn’t bother to carry me?  There was this woman on the elevator who had the most terrifying dog—”

               “And now we are three.”  Bobby said, as Doug walked over, and dropped down to sit on the other side of Sam.  “Listen Guthrie, I don’t need Doug’s powers to know that all is not right in Samville.”

               “But they don’t hurt.”  Doug added.  “There’s a lot of unspoken tension between you and Izzy.”

               Sam rested his elbows on his knees.  “Don’t see why that’s anybody’s business but mine an’ hers.”

               “Well,” Bobby said, “A very expensive dinner with your oldest friends just collapsed – _spectacularly_ – and while Amara wrangles your wife, and we wrangle you, we left Xi’an and Rahne and Dani to peel Warlock off the floor.”

               “He’s really upset.”  Doug said.

               “I’ll apologize to Warlock,” Sam said, before his brow furrowed, and his hands tightened into fists.  “How could Dani _say that_?  T’ think that I’d marry Izzy just because—”

               Doug frowned, and then turned to look at Sam.  “Sam?”  He asked, “Can I ask you a question?  It’s a sort of ugly one.”  When Sam gave a wary nod in response, he continued.  “…Did you marry Izzy because of Joshie?”

               Sam’s mouth flattened.  “I—” he inflated his cheeks, and then squeezed his eyes shut, and let out a breath.  “Yes.  No?  I was thinking about proposin’!  But I wasn’t hurryin’ it.  I wanted t’ maybe move in together, see how that worked for awhile…”

               “But then you found out Izzy was pregnant,” Doug said, “…And you decided to do the honorable thing.”

               Sam’s shoulders sagged.  “…It seemed so obvious.”

               Bobby snorted.

               “Sam—” Doug said, “…You didn’t make the wrong choice.  People have been making the decision to commit their lives together for the reason you made that choice for as long as marriage has been a part of the human language.  You love her.”

               “Then why’s this such a mess?”  Sam said, hands gripping his knees.

               Bobby’s arm around Sam’s shoulders tightened.  “Because you’re everyone’s older brother.  You’re still stuck in the mode where you take care of us and put yourself second – if you ever even enter the race.  But, Sam—”

               Doug leaned back on his hands, and kicked his legs out, “Older brothers are also the first to go, the first to leave, the first to start families of their own.  That’s _life_.  …We all know that.  And we don’t resent you for it.”

               Sam’s jaw tightened.        “Yeah, well, I sure am leavin’ you in a state.  You’re a _mess_ , Dougie, and don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your M-Pox an’ you burnin’ your candle at both ends, Bobby—”

               Doug turned.  “M-Pox?”

               “Yeah.”  Bobby exhaled, “I’m sorta dying.  I think. It’s all kinda up in the air right now.  I have top people working on it.  I don’t know how much time I have left, Doug.  To quote the legendary Burt Gummer, I’m doin’ what I can with what I got.”

               Doug’s tone went frosty.  “Thanks for telling me.  I’m not actually a mind-reader, you know?”  He moved to pat Sam’s shoulder.  “Sam, there’s lots of things I resent.”  He blinked, and paused for a moment, before continuing.  “I resent that I didn’t get a chance to grow up with the rest of you, you know?  I came back, and it was like a record somewhere had skipped, and everyone I loved had changed so much.  All my points of connection with all of you were – well – obsolete.  That’s hard, Sam.”

               “Why didn’t you say something?”  Sam said, looking up, his eyes opening just a touch.  “We would’ve—”

               “Would’ve _what_ , Sam?”  Doug said, “Slowed down?  Tried harder?  Nobody can stop being who they are, and you certainly can’t go backward.  The problem is, I was – am – still trying to figure out who I am in relation to all of you.  You’re my language, but what part of it am I?  That’s what I mean.”

               Bobby frowned.  “Honestly?  I resent the damn Inhumans.  This fucking M-Pox… I don’t want to die, you know?  I’m not afraid, but I don’t want to _die_ yet.  I have too much to _do_.  Their sacred terrigen fart almost wipes us out and all we were supposed to do was get out of its way?  The White Queen was right, Medusa and Black Bolt can go to Hell.”  His mouth tightened into a frown.  “They killed Scott.  I resent _that_.”

               Sam looked down and said “Daddy always said to wish ill on no man, but it did seem to me like they treated mutants like some kinda second-class life-form, like we were just supposed to get out of the way an’ give up our ground to them.  Ain’t no way to be.”

               “Two words: Alpha Primitives.  That’s all I have to say about the Inhuman royal family.  The point is,” Doug said, “What I have never resented, is you – any of you.  And I don’t think anything could change that, Sam.  If you choose to make a life in the stars, we’ll miss you—” he squeezed Sam’s shoulder, “And think of you every day.  But we’ll survive, buddy.  One way or another.”

               Bobby’s mouth quirked.  “He’s putting up a front, the thought of you not being around sucks.”

               Doug paused, and then he nodded.  “He’s right, it blows chunky-style.  But…”  Doug stopped, and went silent.  His chin ticked up.

               Sam looked up, and over at Doug.  “Bobby—”

               Bobby looked over and got to his feet.  “Doug, what—” he moved over and grabbed Doug’s wrist.  “His pulse is through the roof.”  His nostrils had flared, his pupils dilated.

               “Doug.”  Sam reached out and gave Doug’s shoulder a gentle shake.  “Doug, you with us?  Doug!”

               “Shhhhhhhh!  Quiet!”  Doug said, holding up a hand.  “…Something’s happening.  Something big.  I can see it.”  Doug shivered.  “Sam, we have to get back to the school.”

…

               Amara looked up, over the rim of her martini glass.  “Just like I told you, Izzy, a couple of cosmos and you gain a whole new perspective on your problems.”

               Izzy snorted, and said “You’re really into this whole ‘Sex and the City’ lifestyle, huh?”

               Amara threw back her head and laughed.  “I _love_ it.  Boom-Boom says that I’m _completely extra,_ but you know what?  I’m utterly loving life right now.  Things can change like that,” she snapped her fingers, “so I just live in the moment.”

               Izzy raised her glass to her mouth, and then looked up.  Outside, pedestrians had turned, and were running past the restaurant.  “Amara, those people are running away from something.”

               Amara stood up.  “Good gods.”

               Outside, a creature stalked by.  It was dark, leathery, with an elongated snout and no visible eyes.  Gold piercings and jewelry glittered over its body, and a long tail snapped behind it.  Warm blood dripped from its muzzle, and it licked its lips, before it looked up, and let out a hissing rumble.

               “…What are your powers, again?”  Izzy asked.

               Amara’s fingertips ignited into flames.  “On three.  One.  Two.”

               Outside, the creature tilted its head, as the window of the restaurant exploded outward in a blast of energy, catching it in a hail of shattering, melting glass.  It looked up, at the sound of footsteps crunching on glass.

               “All right, freak,” Izzy said, “End of the line.”

               Amara’s energy form scintillated with light and heat.  She smiled at the beast.

               The creature opened its mouth impossibly wide, revealing a mouth full of teeth as long and sharp as steak knives.  It hissed, and then crouched and sprang, only for Smasher to reach up and catch it, mid-leap, and then swung it, hurling it into an abandoned taxi.  It let out a squeal of pain and writhed in the ruin of the car before it pushed itself to its feet.

               _“Jesus,”_ Izzy breathed.

               “My turn.”  Amara raised her hands and hurled a blast of fire at the creature.  It squealed, and backed into the car, as metal warped and turned to slag around it.  Finally, it ceased to move, as Amara left it a burning, stinking husk.

               “What is this thing?”  Amara said, as she approached the dead creature.

               Izzy looked up, at the sound of police sirens in the distance.  A plume of smoke rose from a nearby street.  Horrified pedestrians looked on.  “…We need to get back to the school.”

…

               Dani looked at the corpse of the creature that had burst into the restaurant, as she wrenched Magik wrench her soulsword free of the monster’s carcass.

               Rahne let out a low growl, blood streaming from a wound in her side.  The wolf-woman flexed her claws, as the cut slowly closed.

               Warlock retracted a smoking energy blaster from his hand.  “Warning: Sensors indicate ongoing intrusion of hostile extradimensionals in the nearby area!”

               Xi’an pulled open the creature’s lip with her thumb, eyeing its mouthful of teeth.  “…We need to get back to the school.”

…

               The Magus stepped out into the warped landscape of Limbo.  “Be it ever so humble,” he said, looking up at the nightmare castle that loomed above him. 

               The demons of Magik’s court looked up, as the doors to the great hall burst in.  The caped figure strode among them, and scattered them before him, brushing aside the attacks of clawed, fanged monstrosities.  One serpentine creature lunged, and with the brush of his hand, collapsed and discorporated into a foul sludge.

               The Magus passed through the hall and down a long corridor, before turning.  With the touch of his hands he shattered a demonic ward on a heavy wooden door, and descended an impossibly long, spiraling stairway into a dungeon.

               In a crystal orb, the image of an ugly, spectacled man in an animal headdress howled.  “Serves you right,” the Magus said to what was left of the Ani-Mator, before he passed on, into another chamber, devoted to another woman – emaciated, chained up, but with eyes that burned with keen intelligence and abiding hate.

               “Hello, Witchfire,” the Magus said, as he produced a key, and unlocked her shackles, one by one.  “Lovely day isn’t it?”

               Witchfire spat, and hissed, through cracked lips.  “Who are you?”

               “I’m the person who’s going to give you revenge on Magik and put you back in control of limbo.”  The Magus unlocked the last of Witchfire’s shackles.  “Take a moment to gather yourself, daughter of Belasco – our army awaits.”

**Next: The Ru’Tai take New York!  Citizen X takes charge!  A new ally enters the fray… but who is… _X-Wing!?_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like Smasher much as a character, which is why I'm trying hard not to show her in a negative light. Writing is a good exercise in coming to terms with characters we instinctively push back against.


	3. Take Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Mutants reunite to hit the streets and battle the horde of Ru'Tai demons that have invaded New York. But who are X-WING and KESTREL? And they all have to contend with THE MAGUS, FIREFIST, EMPATH, GOSAMYR, and WITCHFIRE! Hot damn!

               The presence of so many warm bodies in the X-Men’s tactical ops center made the air humid and oppressive, despite the hiss of air through the ventilation system overhead.  A holographic map of New York was displayed over the table.  At the touch of Kitty’s fingers, the map rotated and spun.

               “Incursions are occurring all over the city, almost faster than we can track them.”  Kitty stepped back.  “Illyana, if you would please brief everyone about the nature of our enemy?”

               Magik looked up, and her mouth quirked.  “The demons invading the city call themselves the Ru’Tai.  They were a slave caste of the N’Garai, until they rose up and overthrew their masters.”

               Sam chimed in, from where he was standing between Izzy and Bobby.  “Yeah, I remember.  We had a run-in with them back when I was a rookie X-Man.  Their head honcho was a big fella by the name of Pilgrimm.”  Sam rubbed the back of his neck.  “Big, bad news.”

               Illyana looked at Sam and nodded her head, before she tossed her hair back.  “Pilgrimm is an arch-demon, young by the standards of its kind.  It has an uncannily _pure_ obsession with acquiring knowledge.  It leads, and the Ru’Tai follow.  Why they’ve chosen to invade New York… I don’t know.”

               “Pure my eye, Endora.  That thing is Satan’s librarian, totally evil.  Last time we ran into that cabrón, it was kidnapping innocent people and vivisecting them.”  Cecilia Reyes said.  “Those corpses will be burned into my brain forever.”

               Illyana gestured with one open hand, before continuing.  “Like the N’Garai before them, the Ru’Tai are not of this dimension.  To exist here, they need to bring a piece of their home with them.  They do this by manifesting monoliths, which also have the power to open gateways between our dimension and theirs.”  She gestured, and an image of a monolith graven with strange sigils appeared.  
  
               “Those symbols,” Amara said, “What do they mean.”

               Doug squinted.  “They say…”  He is mouth tightened, and his face went ashy-pale.  “Uh.”

               “I know that look.”  Bobby said, “That’s ‘I weigh a buck twenty-five and just downed three magnums of champagne in half an hour.’”

               “No,”  Sam said, “I think it’s ‘That time the three of us bought all that beer with a fake I.D. and got hammered out in the woods.’”

               Izzy turned to look at her husband.  “You never told me about that.  That doesn’t seem like you at all.”

               Sam blushed.  “Well, every man’s got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, that includes me.  Sides, it was a weekend where we weren’t stuck at the Hellfire Club or fightin’ ghost Vikings or something… I think we only got like three of those.”

               “What?”  Iceman asked, his eyebrows raising.

               “He’s going to barf.”  Kitty said.  “Somebody get a garbage can or something—”

               Illyana snapped her fingers, and in a flash of brimstone, a demon appeared holding a pail.  Cypher bent over it, and retched, loudly.  When he finished, he lifted his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Ugh.”

               “Stew tonight!”  The demon said, happily, before Ilyana dismissed it in a blast of fire and brimstone.

               “Gross.”  Nightcrawler said, from his perch above.

               “Those monoliths…”  Doug says, “I don’t actually have _words_ to translate blasphemy like that.  They _violate our reality_ by existing here.  I mean… they’re literally raping our universe.”

               “That’s generally how demons work.”  Ilyana said, before she looked back to Kitty.  “There’s some other agenda at work here.”

               “Probably.”  Kitty said.  “But we act on the intelligence we’ve got.  The Ru’Tai mongrels are fast and powerful.  Armor powers, regeneration powers… phasing powers, any defensive ability should be considered unreliable against them.  Offense is everything against these monsters.  We hit them fast,”  Kitty slammed her fist down on the table, “And we hit them hard.”

               “With the Avengers on the back foot, the X-Men are currently the largest, most experienced, and best-equipped team in New York.  We also have the most experience fighting these things.  So we’re taking charge.  Everybody divide up into squads.  Team leaders are me, Ororo, Kurt, and Sam.”

               Sam paused.  “With your permission, Kitty, I’m going to step back on this one.”

               Kitty tilted her head, one eyebrow perking.   “ _Really_.  Who, then—”

               Sam patted Bobby on the shoulder.  “He’s the man with the plan, Kitty.  If there’s anyone who can get ten steps ahead of this and get everybody back by breakfast, it’s Bobby.”

               Bobby smirked and crossed his arms.

              “All right then.  Storm, Nightcrawler… Citizen X.  Pick your teams, everyone, and do it fast.”

              Bobby looked behind him.  “Cannonball?”

              “Yup.”

              “Moonstar?”

              “Here.”

              “Magma?”

              “Ave.”

              “Wolfsbane?”

              “Aye.”

              “Karma?”

              “You know it.”

              “Warlock?”

              “Affirmation: Self is so there.”

              “Doug?”

              “Sim.”

              “Illyana?”

              “Hmph.”

               Bobby grinned, slowly.  “I’ll take Smasher, too.  I’ve seen what she can do.  All right everybody.”  He turned to the others.  “Once more with feeling.  New Mutants, kick ass and take names!”

* * *

 

               On the other side of New York, in a grimy black alley, a shimmering portal opened, causing a stray cat stalking a rat to scamper away.  Two figures stepped out.  One, a young woman in a sleek black bodysuit, black hair braided down her back, an eagle-shaped mask on her face, assault rifle slung over her shoulder.

               The other was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in blue and gold battle armor, a tactical mask obscuring the upper half of his face.  He checked a computer built into the armor on his wrist.  “Incursions all over the city.  No sign of Magus.”

               “Don’t assume just because we don’t detect him that he’s not here.”  The woman said, before she stood up.  “I’ll start neutralizing cairns.  You find Magus.  But remember—”

               “…Yeah, yeah.  When I find him, don’t engage.  Notify you so we can rendezvous first.”

               “Now if you can actually remember to follow orders, we’ll be golden.  Just remember, those instructions come from Citizen X and Cypher, not me.”  The woman grinned. “Ready, X-Wing?”

               “Ready, Kestrel.”  They bumped fists.

* * *

 

               “What in Hell happened here?”  Illyana said, after emerging from her stepping disk into the chaos in her castle’s great hall.  She stepped over the twitching, leaking body of a dead demon, and then grabbed a survivor by the throat.  “Explain.”

               “Someone broke into the castle, my queen,”  The demon hissed.  “He waded through your unholy army like you weren’t even h-here!  Made his way down into the dungeons.  Ack…!”  It clutched at her wrist, as her fingers reflexively tightened, threatening to crush its windpipe.  “When he emerged… it was with… the daughter of… Belasco—with WITCHFIRE!”

               Illyana swore, violently, and hurled the demon aside into a tangle of arms and legs.  “This cannot be a coincidence.  If it is, their timing is incredible.”  A stepping disk opened, and she fell into it, before emerging in New York, next to the others.

               “What’s going on?”  Karma asked, as she finished pulling on her uniform.

               “Someone removed Witchfire from my dungeon,”  Illyana said. 

               “You’re kidding.”  Dani said, as she checked an assault rifle, then slapped a clip into it.  “Now?”

               “It can’t be a coincidence,”  Illyana said, setting her jaw.  “An army of demons and the daughter of Belasco—Belasco was a student of Kierokk, lord of the N’Garai.”

               “Is everything awful related?”  Karma asked.

               “Yes.”  Illyana replied.

               “I’m sorry I asked.”  Karma said.

* * *

 

               “Are you sure you’re up for this?”  Izzy said, adjusting her Exospex as she watched Cypher lay out a uniform.  It was blue and gold, with a full cowl, goggles, reinforced with visible body armor and a heavy toolbelt.  “Sam says you’ve been through a lot.”

               “You mean ‘was dead for several years’.”  Doug says, “That’s true.  I was revived by a combination of extraterrestrial technology and black magic.”  He began to pull the uniform on, one article at a time.  “It came with a broad increase in the scope of my mutant powers, which I’ve been assured would have happened to me if I _hadn’t_ died.”

               Izzy leaned against the doorframe.  “Uh-huh.  And having to fight your corrupted future self, after which you were suicidal?”

               “Also true.”  Doug said, as he pulled on a pair of reinforced gloves.

               “That doesn’t sound like the story of a man who’s ready to go out and fight a demon invasion.”  Izzy said, her voice cool.

               “I never said I was ready,”  Doug murmured, as he sat on a bench and pulled on his boots.  “Did Sam ever tell you _how_ I died?”

               “Yeah.”  Izzy said, “He said that you took a bullet for Wolfsbane.”

               “It might’ve been two or three bullets.”  Doug admitted.  “My memories are fuzzy.  But yeah, that’s what happened.”

               “So why are you going back out there?”  Izzy asked.  “Why are they _letting_ you?”

               “It’s not so much a question of letting me,”  Doug said, as he clipped on his belt and gave his uniform a final check, “It’s a question of not being able to stop me.  It’s my life to live...”  Doug clipped on his belt, “And all of them are worth dying for.”

               “Sam told me you were a lion.”  Izzy said, “And now I see it for myself.  How did you achieve your bond with the technarch?”

               “His name is Warlock,”  Doug said, “And like any good friendship, our bond was built over time.  Granted, it’s stronger than most –  we’re soul mates.”

               “So you and Warlock are lovers?”  Izzy asked, as they walked out of the room and down the corridor to the assembly area.  She blinked in surprise when Doug laughed aloud.

               “No.”  Doug said, finally.  “It’s complicated, but no.  Technarchs can take any form they choose, but they all identify as what we’d call ‘male’.  And they reproduce asexually.  They bud.  They don’t have the same physical drives as humans.  Warlock is an aberration in that enjoys any sort of physical intimacy at all.  But… Warlock and I are both pretty heteronormative.”  He paused.  “That said… we’ve literally been one person, one entity before – Douglock, we called it.  Warlock used those opportunities to make a backup file of… me.  My memories, my personality, even my genetic makeup.”

               “Technarchs can do that?”  Izzy asked.

               “Oh, yes.  They’re perfect shapeshifters.  They can take on organic and inorganic forms to the point of being undetectable, except that they always register as being techno-organic virus positive.  They could even copy mutant powers, if they saw any point in doing so.”

               “So they could infiltrate a society and consume it from within.”  Izzy said, stopping.

               “Yes.  Except that they’re so arrogant and aggressive, they’d find the thought of a subterfuge like that both insulting and physically revolting, kind of like becoming a cockroach to infiltrate a society of them.  Anyway,”  Doug went on, “During a period when Warlock’s memories and identity matrix were critically damaged, he… borrowed mine, and took the form of a Phalanx entity that represented a merger of him and me.  Again, Douglock.  He reverted back after he no longer needed to use his backup of me to function.”  Doug rubbed the back of his neck.  “When he… rebooted me for lack of a better term, after I was resurrected, he shared his memories of his time as Douglock with me.  He reasoned they were as much mine as they were his.”

               “Incredible.”  Izzy said.  “The Shi’ar just think of them as all-consuming monsters.  We had no idea that they were so sophisticated.”

               “The Technarchy doesn’t use anywhere near its full capabilities as a race,”  Doug said, “Because they think it would be demeaning to do so.  Other sentient beings are food to be consumed or pests to be crushed.  Resorting to anything but naked force to achieve their aims would be beneath them.”

               “So… what does that make you and Warlock?”  Izzy asked, quizzically.

               “Well.”  Doug said, “The thought of fusing with him permanently as one entity doesn’t bother me, and truth be told, it never really did.  During a reality manipulation created by an extremely powerful mutant called Legion, we were a gestalt entity again, and while there are a lot of uncomfortable memories of that time, being fused like that is something we can both live with.  The thing is, Warlock values his liberty and his individuality very highly.  More to the point, he values _mine_ , you know? Doug Ramsey the autonomous person is preferable to Douglock the gestalt entity.  He doesn’t want to surrender any part of either of us.  I always viewed it more integratively—we become more than the sum of our parts.  He disagrees, and I respect how he feels.”

               “Sometimes over the years people thought of him as some sort of mascot, or worse, as a pet – but he’s neither.  He’s a person, with his own opinions, beliefs, and drives.  We don’t spend all our time together… and we’ve had some pretty spectacular rows here and there, been so mad at one another we didn’t speak for months.  He even hit me, once.”  Doug gave a sheepish mile.  “Over a woman.  Well.  I mean, she’s an android, but she identifies as female.  Though it was more because I lied to him, and abused his trust.”  He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled a slow breath.  “Not my proudest moment.”

               “I think I get it.”  Izzy says.  “It’s Heinleinian, a deep knowing of one another that doesn’t express itself in words.”

               “Right.  We grok each other… we’re Selfsoulfriends.  Death couldn’t break our bond, and because of that bond, Warlock was able to give me new life, first within himself, and later, when my body was revived.”  Doug shrugged.  “Like I said, Izzy, it’s complicated.  And really… it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”

               Izzy tilted her head.  “You’ve got that right.  I’ve got stories I could tell you about Sam…”

               Doug raised his eyebrows behind his goggles.  “I’ve got a good one for you.  It’s about the day I met Warlock, actually, which is also the day I learned I was a mutant.  It started with Sam waking me up in the middle of the night by throwing pebbles at my window, and he wasn’t wearing any pants.  Cannonball, _sine braccas._ ”

               “Let me guess, that’s latin for ‘no pants’.”  Izzy said, her voice wry.

               “You’re _quick_.”  Doug said, as they passed through a doorway and out of sight.

* * *

 

               The Magus looked out over New York City, from the observation deck of the Empire State Building.  He took in plumes of smoke, the sound of police sirens, and his fingers tightened on the railing.  “Look at it.  A metropolitan area of twelve million people.  One of the largest and most powerful conjunctions of ley lines on Earth.  So many events of import, the destiny of so many people are rooted in this city.”

               Witchfire gathered her cloak around herself, clawed fingers curling into blood-red fabric.  She looked to Pilgrimm, to Empath, to Rusty, to the massive, slavering Gosamyr.  “What are you planning, Magus?”

               The Magus looked down over the city.  “I’m going to undo a mistake.  A terrible mistake.  And to do that, I’m going to destroy New York.”

               Witchfire’s eyes glowed.  “…How?”

               “Simple.  The Ru’Tai generate chaos, fear and terror in the city, which will build up to a fever pitch.  At midnight tonight, I will plunge New York into the Ru’Tai’s home dimension.  Pilgrimm will have a whole human city to study at its leisure.  Rusty will provide the energy that will form the core of the dimensional gateway, and you and I will work the spell that will open the door.”  The Magus smiled, under his hood.

               Rusty looked up, sharply.  “What?  No… no, I won’t—”

               “I knew he’d balk,”  Empath said, turning, “Let me put him in his place—“

               “No, Manuel, that’s all right.”  The Magus turned to Rusty, who had raised his fists, white and blue-hot flames leaping up in his hands.  “Rusty, Rusty… I thought we were friends!”  The Magus raised a palm, and then clenched it into a fist.

               The livid black lines of the techno-organic virus stood out against Rusty’s skin, pulsing, and Rusty’s body twisted, as he let out an agonized noise.  The fire in his hands died out, as suddenly as it had appeared.  After a moment, the Magus relaxed his grip, and Rusty stood, slumped, his jaw slack, eyes downcast.

               “You’re a puppet, Rusty.  That’s all you ever were.  But now, at least, you serve a more noble purpose.”  The Magus looked down at the city.  “The X-Men are down there.  They can’t be allowed to spoil the plan.  Delay them until midnight.  Go on a rampage, settle old vendettas if you really must—but keep them off-balance until the end.  And be at Madison Square Garden by midnight.”

               “Won’t it take time to build the spell?”  Empath asked, his brow furrowing.

               “Speak not of that of which you are ignorant,”  Witchfire said, her voice a low hiss, “…All of this is the building of the spell.  What we do at midnight is merely its apex.  And while I wait for midnight, I am going to _kill_ Illyana Rasputin.”

               “Go, then,”  The Magus said.  “I’ll keep Rusty with me, as a bodyguard.”  He paused.  “But—Witchfire, before you go…”  He leaned in, to whisper in her ear.  The sorceress’s eyes widened, and a slow smile crept across her face, before she unhesitatingly bit into her palm, and drew a pentacle on the ground.  “The blood of Belasco, King of Limbo,”  She whispered.  “His blood, my blood…”

               The Magus withdrew a narrow knife, and cut his own palm, before inscribing symbols into the pentacle.  “His blood, your blood, her blood, my blood.  Pilgrimm.  Empower the sigil with the Eye of Kierokk.  The Empire State Building becomes the key that locks the gate.”

               The arch-demon lifted the eye on its heavy chain, and it glowed.  As it glowed, the blood making the magic circle glowed in turn.  The resonance of the spell crept through the steel beams and girders of the Empire State Building, and from there, radiated over the city.

               Empath wrapped his arms around himself.  “What have you done?”  He asked.  “That’s… unpleasant.  I can feel it crawling over my skin.”

               “We’ve cast a spell that’s formed a dimensional barrier between New York City and Limbo.”  Witchfire said, straightening up, “Only temporarily – the sun’s light will destroy it. But until morning…”

               “Magik won’t be able to access her damnable Hell.”  Empath breathed, his eyes alight, “You’ve taken away one of the X-Men’s trump cards.”

               Magus gestured with one hand, and rose into the air, buoyed on tendrils of electric blue sorcery, and Rusty rose with him.  Witchfire did the same, lifted on a blooming pillar of hellfire, and Empath clung to Gosamyr, as she began to descend the building.  Pilgrimm merely lept off the balcony, undeterred by the fall.

               “When I was a boy,”  the Magus said, “My father told me stories of the soldiers of En Sabah Nur.  I always thought the presentation was kind of overwrought, but I liked the name.”  He laughed, boyish, carried away on the wind.  
  
               “Ride, my Four Horsemen!  Ride…”  His eyes burned, threaded with gold wire, “Ride for calamity, for vengeance!”

* * *

 

               The New Mutants had gathered together, out on the lawn in front of the school.  “All right,”  Citizen X said, adjusting his headset, and then making sure his power modulator was securely anchored, “Here’s the plan.  We locate the Ru’Tai plinths, Magik brings us in close, and we take them out one at a time.  We move as a unit, we watch one another’s backs, and we stick together.  Everybody ready?”

               The others murmured affirmation, and Bobby held up two fingers.  “Magik – do it.”

               Magik opened a golden stepping disk below them.  For a moment, the hellscape of Limbo took form on the other side, beyond the pallid golden light.  Then it was occluded, as if by mist.

               “Something’s wrong.”  Magik said, “I can’t—everybody MOVE!”

               The New Mutants scattered in every direction, as the stepping disk exploded outward in a blast of eldritch energy.

               Bobby looked up from a rue hedge, at Smasher, who was helping Cannonball to his feet, and then at the others.  “What the HELL just happened, Illyana?”

               “Somebody’s cast a spell that’s preventing travel between Limbo and Earth.  It’s like my stepping disks are opening up onto a sorcerous brick wall.”

               “Didn’t know brick walls had a habit of exploding,”  Rahne said, as she sank into a crouch and shook herself out.

               Citizen X gripped Moonstar’s arm, as she pulled him to his feet.  “All right then… new plan.  We split into three teams.  Cypher, borrow a Stark satellite, I want an eye in the sky and faster than instant communications.   Locate rendezvous points the entire team can get to no matter where we are.”

               “Done.” Cypher said, opening up a computer.

               “Field leaders are Cannonball, Moonstar, and myself.  My team will consist of Cypher and Magik.  Cannonball, you take Wolfsbane and Warlock.  Moonstar, take Smasher, Magma, and Karma.”

               “I’m not going to take orders from her, Bobby,”  Izzy said.

               “That just means I don’t need to waste time giving them.”  Moonstar responded.

               Bobby set his jaw.  “ _Merda_.  Smasher, Moonstar’s orders come from me, and I trust her.  You can rest assured that in combat she’ll call it right down the middle, and she won’t let whatever… this is get in the way of accomplishing the objective.”  He held up his hands, in a conciliatory way.  “I needed to spread out my heavy-hitters evenly.”

               “Maybe Moonstar and I could switch—”  Sam said, before Smasher held up her hand and put it on his shoulder to quiet him.

               “No, Sam,”  Smasher said, “It’s all right.  I can put aside my desire to teach Dani Moonstar a lesson about making trouble for tonight.”

               Dani clenched her fists.  “I look forward to the day you try, Kane.  That’s the day I get to mop every flat spot in New York City with that resting bitch-face.”

               Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose.  “This is probably as good as it’s going to get.  All right everybody, split up!  Start hitting cairns!”

               With that, the teams broke.

* * *

 

               In the air, Smasher looked over at Dani, seated atop Brightwind.  “You’re a Native American empowered by the Asgardian God of Death, you were trained as a strike team agent and deep cover operative by SHIELD, and you ride a flying horse.”

               Moonstar set her jaw.

               Karma shook her head, “God, it’s like we’re all teenagers again—”  She stopped, when she looked up, and her arms tightened around Moonstar’s ribs. Dark shapes were rising off of buildings, taking to the air to meet them, mouths agape with razor-sharp teeth. “…There’s a flying strain of Ru’Tai?”

               “Shit.”  Moonstar said, drawing her sword, and pulling a pistol from a thigh holster with her other hand.  “Incoming!”

               As the cloud descended upon them, Magma hurled a blast of heat into the swarm, incinerating a cloud of demons and causing the others to scatter.  As she did, Karma began possessing one beast after another, colliding demons in mid-air, turning their claws on one another.

               “Their minds are alien… filthy.”  Karma said, her brow furrowed, “I can’t hold them for long.”

               “You don’t have to,”  Moonstar said, as Brightwind dove into the swarm, and she cleaved one of the demons in twain while downing another with a well-placed bullet.  She rode with no reins, steering the horse with her knees.  “Just give us room to maneuver through them and get to the cairn!”

               Smasher turned in midair, gripping two demons and crushing them together, flinging the Ru-Tai aside before she blasted another with energy from her eyes.  “I see it,”  She said, turning again, “It’s down there, in the park.  If you can make me an opening, I can make a run straight for it.”

               “You heard the woman,”  Moonstar called, “Make an opening!”  She cleaved another demon.  As they counter-attacked, for an instant, the cloud of demons parted, laying bare the path to the Ru’Tai cairn below.  “Do it!”  Moonstar called.

               Smasher dove through the opening and toward the Caern – but a bolt of energy arced up from the ground and struck, sending her hurtling into a playground.

               “No, no, NO,”  the Magus said, stepping out of the shadows in front of the cairn, hissing demons ringing him, as his cloak fluttered in the wind.  Rusty stood beside him, his face expressionless, body drawn like a marionette with its wires pulled too tight.  “Naughty, naughty, Izzy…”  He wagged a finger.

               As Magma dove through the swarm, the Magus gestured, and Rusty lept into action.  He brought his hands up, and white-hot fire erupted from them, forming a screen between Magma and the Magus.  When Amara burst through it, the Magus gestured with the flick of a finger and a murmured word of command, and a demon hurted from the ground and crashed into her, knocking her sprawling.

               He looked up, as Moonstar and Karma burst out of the cloud, on Brightwind’s back.

               “I don’t know who the HELL you are,”  Dani called, before she lept off the horse, Karma following behind, “But you’re going down.” 

               “This isn’t a fight I want to have.”  The Magus said, gesturing with his hands out, “Believe me.  But I know that no amount of pleading is going to sway any of you.  So I have no choice…”   Blue lightning crackled along his forearms and gathered at his fingertips.  “Rusty—”

               Rusty stepped forward, then suddenly turned, and raised his hands, bathing the Magus in flame.

               “I’ve got him.”  Karma said, “It’s like his head’s full of worms, Dani.  It’s the same thing that was in Doug’s head when—”

               “I remember the after-action reports,”  Dani said, “Firefist was one of the zombies that attacked Utopia, and wasn’t accounted for afterward.  Can you get through to him?”

               “He’s completely under the thrall of the T/O virus, which the hostile seems to be controlling.  I--”

               There was a blast of fire and light, as the Magus threw off Rusty’s flames, and sent the group flying backward.  “I don’t think so.  NO!”  He stepped forward, and planted a foot on Moonstar’s stomach.  “I didn’t want to kill you.  But my hand is forced—”  A roar from the sky above caught his attention, as a flash of fire and light burst through the cloud of flying demons overhead.  “…No.  Not NOW.”

               X-Wing came in hot, flames wreathing his body, arms out, as he sailed down in an arc, and struck the Magus, knocking him flying into a copse of trees.  He came to a neat landing in front of the jungle gym, and moved to check on Smasher, his hand going to check her pulse.

               “…Mom, are you all right?!”  He paused.  “I mean… Smasher, are you all right?”

               “…What?”  Smasher looked up, and then sat up, wiping blood from a cut lip off on the back of her hand.  “I’m fine.  What did you call me?”

               “I—never mind that now.”  The young man looked up.  “I’m here to help.  I’m X-Wing.  I’m… a friend.  I hit him hard, but it’s not going to keep Magus down for long.  The T/O virus’ll already be knitting his broken bones.  We’ve only got a few seconds.”  He looked over at Moonstar and Karma, who were getting to their feet.  “Karma, if you can use Firefist, between him and Magma you’ve got the power to destroy the cairn.”

               “Ready?”  Magma said to Karma?

               “Ready.”  Karma affirmed, as with a thought, Rusty lurched upright.  Together, the two poured fire and burning magma onto the cairn.  It almost seemed to scream, as it glowed red hot, and melted into slag.  As it dissolved, the demons circling above it shrieked, and scattered. 

               “They’re scattering to other cairns.”  Dani said. 

               “Well done,”  The Magus called, as he emerged from the tree line.  As he stepped out into the light, a broken arm reset itself, with a sickening pop.  He clapped, slowly.  “It’s amazing to see all of you in your prime.  But you might as well be throwing a rock in the river to try to dam the flood.”

               “Nicky, that’s enough.”  X-Wing said, stepping forward.  “This is _insane_.  Please… come home.  _Please_.”

               “Begging now, X-Wing?”  The Magus said.  “Where’s that family pride?”

               “I’ll fight you if I have to, Nikolai.  But stop, and _think_.  This isn’t going to bring back Brainstorm and Flare.  Millions of people will die—”

               “I don’t care, Joshie!  I don’t _care_.  I just… I can’t.  The way they _died_ … the way so many innocent people died.  It’s burned into my mind.  I can’t get rid of it—”

               “Nicky, you’re _sick_.”  X-Wing extended a hand.  “Let us help you.”

               “No, Joshie… no.”  The Magus grimaced, in the depths of his hood.  “I’m sorry.  I hope… I hope I don’t exist in the future I’m going to bring to pass.  You’ll be so much happier.”  He snapped his fingers, and vanished in a blast of eldritch blue energy, which lept out and grabbed Firefist’s slack form, dragging him into the ether after.

               “Nicky—”  X-Wing reached out, but was left clutching smoke.  “…Damn it!”

               “Who _was that_.”  Magma said, staring at the burnt spot on the grass where the Magus had stood.

               “More to the point, who are you?”  Karma said, turning to X-Wing.

               “…I know who he is.”  Smasher said, from behind X-Wing.  “Josiah Guthrie, you _take off that mask_ right now, and tell us what _is happening_.”

               X-Wing flinched.  “…She had Mom Voice down from day one.”  He said to the others, before he reached up and unclipped his mask.  He was a handsome man, with short blond hair, and stormy eyes.  Izzy was in the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose, but the rest marked him as his father’s son.

               “…Hi, aunt Xi’an, aunt Amara.  Dani.”  He swallowed.  “Kestrel’s going to _kill me_.   I’m already on a short leash after—”  he set his jaw.  “We have to stop the Magus.  We have to save him.”

               Dani approached, and jammed the blade of her sword into the ground, before she leaned on it.  “You need to tell us what’s going on, kid.  Who’s the Magus and what’s the endgame in all this?  If you’re really an X-Man from an alternate future who knows us, you know we expect answers.”

               X-Wing swallowed, and then met the stares of the four women.  “…Okay.  I AM Joshie Guthrie.  I’m a member of the X.S.E., the security and crisis intervention force of the Mutant Nation.  Kestrel is my commanding officer, she’s making her way through the city, taking out cairns.”  He looked down.

               “The Magus… Nicky… he was one of us.  There was…”  He paused.  “The Great Hateful Eye, Shuma-Gorath, broke the seals that kept it out of our dimension and tried to consume the earth.  All of Earth’s defenders, and even a lot of super-criminals rallied to fight it.  The X.S.E, the Avengers, the Champions, Doom… we all joined forces.  Two of our teammates, Brainstorm and Flare… Shuma-Gorath turned them into monsters.  It was horrible.  Nicky was so close to them both, and to protect a group of civilians, he was forced to kill them.  Doom and Wiccan and the Scarlet Witch were able to banish Shuma-Gorath, but the damage to Nicky had been done.”  He clenched his hands into fists.  “He’s got this mad idea in his head that by destroying our future he can spare Brainstorm and Flare what happened to them.”

               “Nicky.”  Karma said.  “You said his name was Nikolai.  Why is that name so familiar…?”

               “Nikolai was Illyana’s father’s name.”  Dani said.

               “Yeah.”  X-Wing dipped his head.  “He’s her son.  Nikolai Phillip Ramsey.”

               “Wait.”  Magma said.  “Illyana and—”

               “No _way_.”  Karma said, her hand in her hair.  “Illyana and _Doug_?”

               “That’s a love-match I wouldn’t have put money on,”  Dani said, before she wrenched her sword out of the ground. 

               “He has his father’s powers and his mother’s talent for magic.”  X-Wing said, as he put his helmet back on.  “He’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and while we were fighting Shuma-Gorath, he deliberately infected himself with a strain of the techno-organic virus to give himself technopathic powers.  He’s incredibly powerful and completely unhinged.”

               “So you’re here to capture him?”  Karma asked.

               “Yeah.  Official X.S.E. business.  Stop him from destroying New York, and bring him back alive.”  X-Wing looked up.  “If Kestrel and I aren’t enough to help you take him down, we have a backup plan.  But it’s last-ditch.”

               Smasher had gone silent.  Finally, she spoke up.  “Exposition’s nice, but we have to hit the next cairn.”  She took off into the air, and then looked down at the others.  “I’ll scout ahead.”  She rocketed off.

               Dani looked over at X-Wing, and then said, “Are you coming along, kid?”

               “If I get a ping that Nicky’s popped up again, I need to go after him.  But until then… let’s do it.”

               Moonstar whistled, and Brightwind came to a landing nearby.  “Good boy.”  She said to the horse, before she climbed aboard.  “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter -- The witch is back, and there's HELL to pay! Citizen X, Magik, and Cypher vs. WITCHFIRE!


	4. Black Magic Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Citizen X, Magik, and Cypher tangle with the sorcerous whammy of WITCHFIRE in the tunnels underneath New York City!

**Chapter Four: Now the Family is Parted**

               “So, you’re saying that the school is safe because Cleopatra’s Needle is a warding obelisk?”  Citizen X said, as they entered the subway station.

               “That and Frederick Law Olmstead was a powerful geomancer who built Seals of Solomon into his park designs.  Why do you think demons never try to invade Buffalo?”  Magik murmured.  “Between Olmstead’s work, the Freemasons, and the Catholic Church, the city’s locked down tight against infernal invasion.”

               “I just didn’t think there was anything there worth invading over, unless demons like banking nodes, chicken wings, and Canadian-American overland trade,” Citizen X said, with a shrug.

               “It was a different story a century ago.”  Magik said, as they trudged down into the tunnel.  She looked over her shoulder.  “Hurry up, slowpoke!”

               “I’m coming!”  Cypher called, “I’m coming.”  He huffed, as he vaulted a rail.  “Just not used to the body armor in this costume, is all.”

               “Channel 6 got footage of Mongrels coming out of this subway station,” Citizen X said, “Which means there’s a cairn down here.  Between the two of you, we ought to be able to pin it down.”

               Magik sighed, and her canines extended into fangs.  A forked tongue extended past her lips and tasted the air.  “This way.”  She said, gesturing.

               “It’s all about the subtle signs,” Cypher said, as they followed.  “Animal life instinctively avoids extradimensional incursions like this.  Humans can feel it too, but we’re too intelligent—we rationalize it away and ignore our instincts.”  They turned down a section of dark tunnel, and Cypher clicked on a flashlight.  “No rats, no roaches.”  He paused.  “Hey, Bobby, do you remember when we used to play D&D?”

               “I loved it and pretended I hated it?”  Bobby said.  When Magik turned to look at him, he shrugged, “Fourteen-year-old Bobby da Costa struggled to reconcile his coolness with his love of being a hero.”

               “What’s the most important lesson I taught you and Sam?”  Cypher said, his voice gone quiet.  “Green slime.”

               “Green— “Bobby paused.  “ _Always check the ceiling_.”  He looked up, into the dripping jaws of a trio of Ru’Tai mongrels clinging to the roof of the tunnel.  “Aw, _Hell_.”

               One of the demons lept, and Kirby radiance flared around Citizen X’s hands as he grabbed the demon by the jaws.  “Oh man,” he wheezed, as the demon exhaled in his face, “It smells like the Blob’s singlet after Taco Tuesday!”

               “You say these things and I can never unhear them,”  Magik said, as she held up her hand.  A blood-red ward of energy manifested from her palm, and a leaping Mongrel slammed into it like a brick wall, letting out a noise like someone had stomped on a set of bagpipes.

               “Kitty said there were self-defense features built into this uniform,” Cypher said, as he slowly backed up from the third demon, which prowled toward him, slowly.  “Let’s see.”  With the flick of an eyelash, he cycled through options in the uniform’s HUD.  “I feel like Batman,” he mused.  “CO2 fire suppressant capsules, no, an alarm that shouts ‘That’s my purse, I don’t know you!’ at 80 decibels, _thanks, Kitty_ …”  He blinked, as an option ticked by.  “…Motion-recharged taser?”

               Citizen X grunted, as the demon lunged, and he drew on his powers, wrenching his arms apart.  There was a crack of shattering bone, and the demon collapsed, writhing on the ground.  He grimaced, and then dispatched it with an energy blast from his hand, before a flash of light and an ozone tang made him look up.  Cypher lowered a smoking gloved hand, from a staggering, dazed demon, which Magik neatly ran through from behind.

               “Nice.”  Cypher said, “…But are all these bells and whistles really _me_?  I have to think about how I feel about this.”

               Magik rolled her eyes.

               A few minutes later, they turned down another tunnel, where the cool of the underground had been replaced by a sticky, oppressive heat.  “Okay.”  Citizen X said, “Let’s pause for a moment so can canvas the group.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “This is an _obvious trap_.”

               “Obviously.”  Magik and Cypher said, in unison.

               “I just wanted to make sure we all knew we were about to spring it.”  Citizen X said.  “You know.  In the interests of openness.”

               A moment later, he touched the wall, and paused.  “Mm, that’s not water.”  He held out his hand, and when Cypher shone the flashlight on it, Citizen X said, “Yup, blood.  The walls are bleeding.”  He looked up, at the silhouette of a woman at the far end of the tunnel.  “And I bet she’s why.  Hey, Illyana, look!  …We found Witchfire.”

               The demonic sorceress let out a scream.

               “And boy,” Bobby added, “Is she _pissed_ _at you_!”

               “Must you _insist_ on narrating the obvious?”  Magik said, as she brandished her soulsword.

               “As team leader it’s important for me to keep morale up.”  Bobby said, out of the corner of his mouth.  “I find injecting a little levity into things makes my teammates smile and keeps my enemies off-balance.  It worked when I was running the U.S. Avengers!”  Something wet coiled around his ankle in the dark and pulled.  “Oof!”

               A tentacle made of congealed blood lifted Citizen X into the air and dangled him in front of Witchfire.  “ _Vermin_.”  The sorceress breathed.

               Bobby grinned, wide and disingenuous.  “I’ve been called worse, but usually after a bad date.  Come on beautiful, let me treat you right.”  He suddenly bent at the waist and fired a double-palmful of energy at Witchfire’s face.  She let out a shriek, and then the tentacle slammed Citizen X through a wall, into a collapsing pile of masonry and ichor.

               “Check on Bobby.”  Magik said, to Cypher.  She pointed the soulsword at Witchfire. “Again, you come at me, and again, you’re going to lose.”

               “Whore!”  Witchfire spat.  “Usurping cow!”  Razor-tipped tendrils of gelatine blood erupted from around her, slithering through the air toward Magik, who deflected them with an arcing swing of her sword.  “You locked me in the bowels of my own castle and tormented me— “

               “My castle, in my kingdom.  I earned it, through tribulation and battle.  Belasco, N’astirh, the Old Gods themselves.  I _crushed them_ , Witchfire.  What makes you think you even rate?”  Horns sprouted from Illyana’s forehead, as silvery armor crawled like liquid over her body.  A cloven hoof stamped into the ground.

               Witchfire’s eyes burned, as her hair sprang to life around her, and her eyes went black, like doll’s eyes.  Her fingernails lengthened into claws, and her teeth to needle points, as her robes flowed around her like liquid.  “Hate, Darkchylde.  The difference is _hate_.”  More razored tendrils sprang up around her.

               “It may be that the fly hates man, to pester him so,” Magik replied, “But man swats the fly, and thinks nothing more of it.”

               Witchfire howled.  “DIE!  DIE, DIE, DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE— “And the two sorceresses charged one another.

               “Bobby,” Cypher called, as he prowled over the rubble, “Bobby!”  A groan, and a shifting of bricks caught his attention.

               “Doug,” Bobby said, “Sometimes I forget that I’m something of a glass cannon.  My leg’s broken, _camerada_.”  He grimaced. 

               “Illyana can heal it.”  Doug said, before he looked over his shoulder, as a shrieking Witchfire passed by.  “…In a minute.  But in the meantime, let’s get this rubble off you, hot-shot.”  He started to pull away bricks.  He looked up again, as Illyana went sailing past, and landed in a heap.  The soulsword clattered to the ground in front of the hole in the wall.  “…Uh-oh.”

               “Doug,” Bobby said, “…Don’t get killed.”

               “You know me, hot-shot,” Cypher said, standing up.  “…No promises.”

               Outside, Witchfire lifted into the air, hoisted on those writhing tendrils, that now extended from her hair.  Her appearance was drawn, skin gone ashy gray, lips peeled back over long teeth, her tongue lengthened, extended.  “And now… finally…”  A tentacle curled around Magik’s neck, cutting off her air, “I reclaim my birthright as daughter of Belasco and take my throne as the Witch-Queen of Limbo.  I’m going to savor this.” 

               Then a voice spoke in Lesser Demonic, an Awful Saying that physically wrenched Witchfire around, causing the tentacle to slide away from Magik’s neck.  Cypher narrowed his eyes behind his goggles and tossed the Soulsword from one hand to the other.  “…Got your attention?  Good.  Come on, Hogatha… let’s dance!”

               Witchfire laughed, aloud.  “The one with the power of _talking_.  I quiver in _terror_.”

               “Yeah.”  Cypher said, “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot— “On the tail end of his quip he lunged with the blade.  Witchfire jerked out of the way, just in time for the razor edge of the Soulsword to graze along her ribcage.  She clutched the wound, and turned, lashing out with a tendril and knocking Cypher back before he could bring his guard up.

               “You miserable _larva_ ,” Witchfire breathed, as she rounded on him, “I’ll suck the marrow from your BONES!”

               _You’ll still be alive when I do it._

               “Gah.”  Cypher said, “Lady, you are just all kinds of wrong.”  A tendril lashed out at him and he flicked the blade up, slicing it off neatly.  “Like something out of a Junji Ito horror manga.”  He backed off, slowly, waving the blade tauntingly.

               “You _dare!?_ ”  Witchfire said, eyes ablaze.

               “As anyone who knows me would tell you,”  Cypher said, “’Dare’ is my middle name.”  He lopped off another tendril.  “Well, actually it’s Aaron… but if I could pick another one it’d be ‘Dare’.”

               Among the rubble, Citizen X pushed himself up.  “Good boy,”  He said, “Draw her off from Illyana.  Buy us time.”  He pushed himself up, and crawled forward.  “Magik,”  He hissed, “ _Illyana_ , she’s going to kill Doug!  GET UP!”

               Cypher stepped back again, until his back hit the wall.  Semi-solid tendrils slithered up his legs, and he bent to slice them away with the Soulsword.  More caught his arms, and wrenched, pulling the sword away—it bounced to Witchfire’s feet, and she bent to pick it up, eyes alight.  She leaned in close, and purred in Cypher’s ear, as she held the blade up.  “Did you know, this sword is not merely Limbo in a microcosm… it’s also a reflection of its master.  It takes on a form reflecting all that they are.  For all her _bluster_ , the soulsword tells the truth about the Darkchylde.”

               “ _My_ gift is the Witch’s Eye.  I can see into others’ souls.”  Tendrils crawled around Cypher’s ribs.  “Like yours.  You’ve crossed death’s gate and returned.  This gives you _power_ … and creates an abyss between who you are and the person you were.  A _dark_ abyss.  I can see the thing inside you waiting there.  A mechanical boy, all hard edges and twisted copper wire, cold and unfeeling.  The more you understand it, the more you _fear_ it.  It’s so logical, isn’t it?”  The tendrils began to squeeze, cutting off Cypher’s air.

               “Seductively so.  You heeded it before.  Once in Limbo, where a woman’s petty games were going to get you killed.  You played along, built a trap… and then did something horrible.  You didn’t even notice it at first, but there was _fear_ in the faces of the people you love.  And  when a mechanical man was going to kill your friends.  The voice showed you what needed to be done… and you used its words to persuade your truest friend to do the thing that went most against his nature.  That was the first time you saw it for what it was.”

               “And then finally, you were… infested!”  She laughed.  “A Star-Spawn of Shuma-Gorath, a cosmic parasite which saw the thing inside you for what it was, and drew it out of the dark… oh, _my_.”  Witchfire’s tentacles tightened around Cypher’s torso, causing his ribs to pop.  “It might be able to save you, but you fight it.  You’re as weak and pathetic as everyone thinks you are, because you reject what makes you strong.”  The tentacles squeezed again, and Cypher’s ribs cracked.  He cried out.

               “Don’t be afraid.”  Witchfire purred.  “You’ve died before.”

               Cypher clenched his teeth in pain, and clutched at the tendrils around his ribs.  “You know the real weakness I’ve noticed that demons have?”  He rasped, spitting up blood.  “You’re all sadists, entranced by inflicting pain.”

               The Soulsword vanished from Witchfire’s hand in a burst of light.  “What—“  Then a mailed fist curled into her hair, and pulled back.

               “This is _MINE_ ,”  Magik snarled, as the point of the blade pushed out through Witchfire’s belly, demonic ichor and flesh burning away around it in a silvery light.  “And so.  Is.  He.  Let go of him, Witchfire.  _Now_.”

               Witchfire howled, and her tendrils withdrew, dropping Cypher, and she shrieked as Magik threw her to the ground.

               “Now,”  Magik said, “…Goodbye.”  She raised the blade and brought it down in an arc, striking old masonry as Witchfire spat, and vanished in a burst of hellfire.

               “Coward.”  Magik breathed, before she sank to one knee, leaning on the soulsword.

               “Ow.”  Cypher said, as he pushed himself up to sit against the wall.  He wiped blood from his mouth.  “Broken ribs.  Internal bleeding…”  He closed is eyes, and let out a weak laugh.

               Magik pushed herself up, and kneeled down next to Cypher.  “You’re an idiot, Doug Ramsey.”

               “Hey,”  Cypher breathed, his voice reedy, “It’s not my intellect that’s in question here, it’s my wisdom.  ‘Fool’ would be a more accurate word, you know?”

               Magik blinked once, taken aback.  “…Fool it is, then.”  She put her mailed hand on Cypher’s ribs.  “I can heal you, but it’s going to hurt.”

               “In case you haven’t noticed, Illy-Bean, I’m—“  Cypher clenched is teeth, “Already in a lot of pain.”  He laughed, weakly.  “Ow.”

               Magik snorted, and her hand glowed red.  “Muscle knot, bruises black.  Bones reset and body wrack…”

               Cypher howled, and clutched Magik’s arm.  “Okay, you were right.”  He breathed.  “You know I’m glad I never got to take you up on that hangover cure?”

               “It would’ve been unpleasant,”  Magik agreed.  “Deeply unpleasant.”  She paused, for a moment, and then leaned in to kiss Doug on one grimy cheek.  “…A reward for a brave fool,”  She said, as she helped him to his feet.

               “… _Wowie-zowie._ ”  Doug said, his cheeks burning scarlet under his cowl.

               “Nobody’s said that since 1983.”  Magik said, curling her lip.  “I don’t know if anybody actually said that _in 1983_.”

               “I say it.”  Doug said, as he took a moment to check himself over.

               “Well stop it.”  Magik said, “It sounds dorky.”

               “Illyana,”  Doug said, as he took a moment to pull back his cowl and pull off a glove, before wiping sweat and drying pain-tears from his eyes, “I’m a Dr. Who-slash-Star Trek-slash D&D nerd with the super-power of languages.  I _am_ a dork.”

               Illyana gave Doug a flat stare.  Doug beamed back.  After a moment, the corner of her mouth turned up.

               “I saw that!  I saw the whole thing.”  Citizen X said, leaning against the wall, “You got sugar from the Demon Queen of Limbo!”

               “You’re hallucinating,”  Illyana said.

               “No, I saw it!  I’m shipping this now.”  Bobby said.   “I got a photo of it!”  He held up his phone.

               Doug took out his own phone, and noodled with it for a moment.  “Photo deleted.”

               Bobby looked at his phone, and frowned.  “How did you DO that?  Never mind.  Still shipping it.”

               “No idea what you’re talking about, Bobby,”  Doug said, looking away to hide his blush.  “No idea.”

               “I’m gonna tell Sam.”  Bobby said.  “And the girls.”

               “I’m going to send Xi’an and Sam that fanfic you wrote where you save the world with Thomas Magnum and he makes you his partner if you don’t cut it out, Bobby.”  Doug said, rubbing the back of his neck.

               “Ha, go ahead, who do you think proofread and edited it for me?”  Bobby retorted.

               “Quit acting like fifteen year-olds and let me see that leg,” Magik said, with a disgusted shake of her head.  She put her hands on Citizen X’s leg, and murmured under her breath.

               “I even gave a copy to Tom Selleck!  He said it was a good amateur effort—OW!”  Bobby hissed.  “You made that hurt more than it had to!”

               “Wuss.”  Doug said, as he leaned against the wall and collapsed into a sit.

               “I’m gonna limp over there and kick your butt—“  Bobby replied.

               “…We still have to go take out that cairn.  Quit whining and get up.”  Magik said, tossing her hair back.

               Cypher and Citizen X groaned, in unison, and lurched to their feet.

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had been in my head for a little while, and it's nice to finally get it on paper (as it were). My ship has finally emerged from the fog, but to tell you the truth, even I'm not sure where it's going or what kind of head of steam it's built.
> 
> Next - it's an unhappy reunion when Cannonball and cohort take on EMPATH and GOSAMYR! All that, and PILGRIMM too!


	5. (F)lannigan's Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go downhill, but the fight is not yet done. Present and Future collide for the fate of New York, and the lines form for the final showdown...

“SelffriendSam,” Warlock said, looking around, “Self detects the appearance of more cairns and the appearance of more Hostiles:Ru’Tai.  Allies:X-Men are outnumbered, even when factoring in superior tactics. “

               Cannonball grimaced and watched a black wave of Ru’Tai mongrels crawl over a high-rise in the distance.  “In other words, we need a new plan.”

               Rahne growled, from her perch atop a nearby car.  “I’m worried, Sam – ‘bout the others.”

               “Same.”  Sam hit his communicator.  “Citizen X.  Moonstar.  We’re headed to checkpoint: alpha.  Meet us there as soon as you’re able.”

               “I think the cairns are interferin’ with communications.”  Sam says.  “But alpha’s the first rendezvous spot.  I trust Bobby an’ Dani to get the rest of them there safe.”  He looked to Warlock.  “You’re the smoother ride, ‘Lock.  Grab Wolfsbane and let’s fly.”  Flames erupted around him, and he took to the air.

               Warlock’s techno-organic form flowed, and turned into a small helicopter, his eyes mounted as headlights, mouth a grill on the front.  “SelffriendRahne should hang on tight!  Self is hoping for reunion:joyful with SelfsoulfriendDoug when event:crisis is past.”

               “Oh, Lock,” Rahne said, “We’re na’ children anymore.  Would you be upset if we were just friends?”  Rahne said, as a handheld extended itself from the ceiling of the passenger chamber—she curled a clawed hand into it.

               “Clarification:Negative!  Self believes an affirmation of status:friendship would make SelffriendRahne and SelfsoulfriendDoug very happy, and Self overjoyed.”

               “Ha!”  Rahne laughed, as the wind whipped through her thick fur.  “…Me too, Warlock.  Is the boy I knew still in there?”

               “SelfsoulfriendDoug’s reboot was… traumatic, and viral:True/Friend was damaging.  Progress:slow/unsatisfactory.  But Selfsoulfriend is trying.”

               “I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.  I’m ‘na the innocent thing I was, Warlock.”  Rahne shook her head.

               “Self knows something of Selfsoulfriend’s mind.”  Warlock affirmed, “But Self will not speak for him.  SelfsoulfriendDoug will speak for himself, as he always has, if SelffriendRahne asks him.”  He silenced himself.  “SelffriendSam!  Warning!  WARNING!”

               A massive net of webbing, thin as a sheet and opaque had been stretched between two buildings in their path.  Sam veered up, sharply; Warlock struck it, and stuck fast.  “Alarm.  ALARM!”

               “What in the world?”  Sam said, before a strand of webbing flew at him.  He banked, sharply, and gawped at the pallid white creature clinging to the edge of the building, and the man on his back.

               “Ha, Sam!”  Empath crowed, “Nothing to say to your old flame?”

               “…Can’t be…”  Sam whispered.

               “But it is, Guthrie!  IT IS.”  Empath’s eyes glowed.  “Kill him, Gosamyr!”

               Gosamyr reared her head and screamed.

               Rahne stared at the creature that had once been their friend.  “Oh, _no_.  No.”

               Gosamyr opened her mouth and sprayed another strand of webbing – Cannonball zagged through the air.  “Empath, you _cockroach_!”

               “Warlock,” Wolfsbane said, “Can ye get free?”

               “Self is adjusting,” Warlock said.  His form morphed.  “Extraterrestrial:Gosamyr’s webbing is an extremely powerful adhesive.   Self is adjusting Self’s composition until—” His form rippled, and he wrenched free.  “Self is now resistant to the adhesive.  But self admits that was extremely painful.”

               Warlock adjusted into a starfighter, replacing his rotors with rocket-jets.  “Self has evaluated Entity:Gosamyr.  She exists in a half-formed pupal stage, artificially aborted.  Her organs and internal systems do not work correctly.  She is in tremendous pain.”

               Rahne set her jaw.  “And Empath’s bein’ used tae tame her.  Bring me in, Warlock!”  She flexed her claws, and then dove out of Warlock.   “EMPAAAAATH!”  She howled, and then lashed out with a long, clawed arm, grabbing him and yanking him from Gosamyr’s back as she fell.  They tumbled, together.

               “Ye low-down dirty _dog_ ,” Rahne snarled, as they tumbled.

               Empath screamed.

               There was a roar of fire, as Cannonball sped underneath them, and caught them both.  “Gotcha!”

               “I should drop ye,” Wolfsbane growled to Empath.  “An’ let the world be rid of you for good.”

               A flock of winged Ru’Tai demons burst out of the building in front of Cannonball, swarming forward.  “Lordy—” Sam tried to turn, but the demons slammed into him, knocking them sprawling.  In the tumult, Wolfsbane lost her grip on Empath, and one of the demons carried him off.

               Empath gave a mad cackle, as he was dropped at the feet of an old fountain, now broken—he looked up at Pilgrimm, perched atop it, wielding the Eye of Kierokk in one hand.

               “Pilgrimm recalls this one.”  It said, pointing at Cannonball.  “Self wishes to vivisect it and understand the mechanisms of its propulsion.”

               “Music to my ears!”  Empath crowed.  “…Just promise me that I can watch.”

               Gosamyr descended next to them, on a web line. 

               Cannonball burst from the other side of the flock of demons, clinging to Wolfsbane, and Warlock joined him.  “Whoever’s doing this is targeting us, specifically.   Has to be—”

               From the ground, Empath called up.  “Sam!  I heard you have a son!  Congratulations!  I just wanted you to know, I’m going to make you shake him till his neck breaks!”

               Cannonball grit his teeth, and then soared low, zagging around cars and plowing through the side of a bus.  He slowed enough to drop Wolfsbane.  “Empath – YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!”

               Pilgrimm raised the Eye of Kierokk, and the talisman turned, focusing its unblinking stare onto Sam.  It flashed, and Sam’s blast-field died.  He dropped to the ground, eyes dilated, and he seized, body convulsing.

               “Finish him.”  Empath said, to Gosamyr.  “Crush him—”

               Wolfsbane howled, and lept through the air, onto Gosamyr’s back, digging in her claws.  Gosamyr bucked, legs punching holes in the asphalt as she bucked, knocking a car aside.  “Na’ today, Empath!”    A swinging leg caught Empath a glancing blow before he could duck and stunned him, knocking him sprawling.

               Warlock landed, interposing himself between the demon and Cannonball.  He stared up Pilgrimm, wide-eyed.  “Extradimensional entity designate:Pilgrimm.  Self is Technarch, designate:Warlock.  You have injured Selffriend.”

               “It is not meat.”  Pilgrimm said, stroking its chin as it studied Warlock.  “Most perplexing.  What is it?”

               “Self is species:Technarch, techno-organic lifeforms with no set form.  Self takes on forms self finds enjoyable, or non-agitative to native species:Humans.  SelffoePilgrimm is entity:Demon, which self document as practicing illogical cruelty against all forms of life unless controlled by a more powerful entity  than themselves.”

               “Pilgrimm is Ru’Tai, chosen as their voice.”  The demon showed its teeth.  “It has great power, power placing it above the concerns of the meat.  Yet it makes itself less, for the meat.  Explain this.”

               “Self is a pacifist.  Self does not desire to injure other living beings, particularly sentient living beings.  This has no greater significance than Self’s own peace of mind.  Self has been assured this is correct.  But self has been taught the necessity:regrettable of violence in defense of others.”  Claws extended out of the back of Warlock’s hands.  “Declaration:Snikt!”

               Pilgrimm pursed its lips, and then blasted Warlock with the Eye of Kierokk.  Warlock’s techno-organic form warped, and then flowed down, flat against the ground.

               "Self does not understand,"  Warlock said, rising out of the pavement in front of Pilgrimm.  "SelffoePilgrimm seeks to understand the human race, but does this through experimentation and vivisection?"  His eyes changed size in befuddlement, briefly.  "There is no knowledge to be had in such cruelty except the knowledge of suffering, and Self affirms the unfortunate truth: that knowledge can be attained through passive observation."

           Pilgrimm flexed its claws, and then fingered the Eye of Kierokk around its neck.  "This one regards the meat too highly.  Each human animal is a unique variation on a theme -- meat and blood and bone, in seven billion combinations, waiting to be unlocked.  Why does it defend lesser life?  It is a mystery."  It ran its tongue along its teeth, slowly.

           Warlock rose further, matching the demon in size and bulk.  "...Self understands now.  SelffoePilgrimm is irrational/unreasonable/evil in the same way Technarchs are: Selffoe lacks an understanding of intrinsic value of living things, and only understands their value as an outgrowth of its search for knowledge."  Warlock set his jaw, and transformed one hand into a cannon, and sprouted a sword in the other.  "Self will act to defend human life from SelffoePilgrimm--"

           Warlock sprang, and Pilgrimm rose to meet him.  Technarch and Archdemon collided with an impact that shook and splintered concrete and asphalt.

               On the ground, Empath got to his feet, and then staggered toward Sam.  He looked down at a chunk of concrete as big as a fist with a piece of rebar sticking out of it and grinned, before he hefted it, with effort.  He plodded toward Cannonball’s twitching form.  “Time to die, Guthrie.  Time… to die.” 

               Sam looked up with glazed eyes, as Empath raised his improvised weapon.  “Guh… guh…”

               Empath looked down, and then dropped the chunk of concrete.  “No.  No, this is too _good_ for you.  Too quick, too clean.  I want you to suffer.”

               Gosamyr bucked and flung Wolfsbane free.  Rahne hit a parked car with a crash and lay still.

               Nearby, Pilgrimm and Warlock struggled, back and forth, surging against one another.  But gradually, the demon gained the upper hand; the gashes inflicted by its claws were slow to knit.  Finally, Pilgrimm batted Warlock aside, and the Technarch looked up, its expression agonized.

               “Pilgrimm.”  Empath said, “Grab that one,” He pointed to Sam.  “It’s time to go.”  He laughed, jubilantly, as the demon lifted Sam in one hand.

               Rahne pushed herself up, out of the ruins of the car.  “No—”  She breathed, “Sam!”

               “He has front-row seats to the end of his world, Sinclair!”  Empath said, as he climbed aboard Gosamyr.   “Vengeance.  Vengeance!”

               The Eye of Kierokk glowed, and they vanished in its light.

* * *

 

               The rendezvous point was still and quiet, overlooked by the statue of Louis Kossuth.  Karma sat with her back to the statue, and nursed a bottle of water, as Dani and Smasher looked on at X-Wing’s dressing-down.

               “You had orders not to engage Magus.  You engaged him.  You didn’t notify me, and you engaged him—this is the same bull that let Nicky break out of Avalon in the first place and started this whole mess.  Kestrel had the front of X-Wing’s uniform in a grip and gestured with her other hand.  “You idiot… they’re going to boot you from the X.S.E. for this!”

               “There are more important things than my badge, Kestrel.”  X-Wing said.  “What was I supposed to do, let them get torn apart?  What would we have done if we’d gotten Nicky back and he’d killed one of them?”

               Kestrel narrowed her eyes, and quirked her mouth to the side, but let go of Nicky’s uniform.  “I’m not the one you’ll need to defend yourself to.”

               She turned to the others.  “Kestrel, X.S.E. Gold Squad commander.  And X-Wing’s superior officer.”  She looked up to Smasher.  “Ma’am.”  Then, with a slight pause, she shook Dani’s hand.  “Moonstar.”

               “Citizen X’s team is coming.”  Karma said, standing up.  “Beat-up, but intact.”

               A moment later, Sunspot, Magik, and Cypher rounded a corner.

               “You all look like hell,”  Magma breathed, as she ran to them.  “Bobby, are you all right?” 

               Bobby grimaced.  “What?  Just a little scuffed up.  We ran into Witchfire down in the subway tunnels… she put us through the wringer, but we got the upper hand on her.”

               “We encountered the person behind all this,”  Magma said.  “He’s a time-traveling sorcerer and technopath who calls himself Magus.”  She looked to X-Wing and Kestrel.  “You need to tell them.”

               Kestrel nodded.  “Things are well past the point of no return as it is.  Tell them about Nikolai, Magma.  It’s all right.”

               Magik looked up and narrowed her eyes.  “Nikolai…?”

               “Named after your father.”  Kestrel said.  “…Because he’s your son.  Nikolai Phillip Ramsey.”

               Magik’s lips tightened.  “That seems somewhat far-fetched.”

               Doug’s eyes widened.  “Illyana and my…”  He began to laugh.  “…Lady, I know you’re telling the truth, but you’ve got to be putting me on!”  There was a touch of bitterness to his voice.  “A woman like Illyana doesn’t give a schmoe like me the time of day.”

               “Hush.”  Magik said to Cypher.  Then she turned back to Kestrel.  “This invasion’s progressed past our power to suppress it.  The X-Men won’t quit fighting, but the best we can do is slow it down.”

               “Cannonball?”  Bobby asked, as he took a grateful sip from a bottle of water that Xi’an pushed into his hand.

               “His team’s still unaccounted for.”  Xi’an said. 

               “They’ll make it.”  Bobby said.  “They have to.”

               Dani paused, and then stood up.  “Rahne!  I can feel her, getting closer.  Fast.”  She pointed, as Warlock arced over a nearby building and descended toward the group.  He let Rahne go and transformed, lurching toward the group.

               “Warlock!  You’re hurt!”  Cypher said, sprinting toward the Technarch.  “How—”

               “Self engaged in battle with SelffoePilgrimm.”  Warlock said, sweeping Cypher up into an embrace.  “Self lost.  Selffoes escaped—”

               “And took Sam with them.”  Rahne said, as she showed her teeth.

               “…Kestrel,”  X-Wing said.  “…I think it’s time.  If we don’t act now, we’re done.  Use the Nuclear Option.”

               Bobby’s head jerked up.  “Nuclear Option?”

               “Our last-ditch option.  It’s a distress beacon.”  Kestrel said.  She fished a fob out of her belt and held between her thumb and forefinger.  It had an ‘X’ on it.  She pressed the X, which glowed.

               “…Nothing’s happening.”  Magma said.

               “…Wait for it.”  X-Wing said.

               “…Alert.”  Warlock said.  “Time/Space disturbance is manifesting in the sky over City:New York!”  He looked up.

               “A _big one_.”  Cypher agreed.

               The portal that opened over New York turned the purple city sky back into bright day.  It glowed, silver and funnel-shaped, crackling with energy; and from the depths of it something appeared, a single point that got larger and more complex as it pushed its way into three dimensions.

               “…It’s a helicarrier?”  Bobby asked.  “No… it’s a helifortress.”

               “It’s MASSIVE.”  Dani said, as a wind whipped up, blowing her hair.  “It’s got to be a mile long.”

               “Oh, it’s bigger than that.”  Doug said.  “Fifteen kilometers.  Exactly fifteen kilometers.”  He stared, wide-eyed.

               “That’s Avalon,”  X-Wing said, “Primary operations headquarters of the X.S.E.”

               Flocks of flying Ru’Tai demons erupted from the city below and swarmed the ship… and as they flocked toward it, it opened fire, blasting its attackers with lancing beams of energy.

               “Repulsor batteries.  A gift from Tony Stark.”  Kestrel said.  “And now—”  Her communicator came to life.  “Kestrel here.”

               “Kestrel, this is Skyburn.  Distress call heard and acknowledged.  X.S.E. deploying.  Do you require relief?”

               “A medic would be appreciated.”  Kestrel said.

               “We’re reporting some sort of dimensional interference over the city.”  Skyburn replied, over the comm.  “Two of our agents are deploying to check it out and neutralize it.”  He paused.  “Please tell Magik her access to Limbo should be restored in a few minutes.”  The intercom clicked off.

               The gathered team watched as drop shuttles ejected from Avalon, streaking toward the city.  “Each of those shuttles contains an X.S.E. squadron ready to bring the pain.  We’ll reinforce the other teams of X-Men in the city, seek out other vigilantes and give them support, and start taking out cairns.  But…”

               “But it all comes to nothing if we can’t get to the heart of the matter and stop the Magus.”  Bobby said.  “Illyana.  When you’ve got your mobility back, I have a task for you.”  He looked to Dani.  “You know the real secret to being a superheroic mastermind?”  He said.  “Have a lot of friends who’ll go to the mat for you.”

               Dani crossed her arms.  “You’re the greatest super-villain in the world, Bobby.”

               “You know Wiccan and Hulkling said that, too…”  Bobby beamed.  “They’ve asked me to officiate at their wedding, you know.  Since one’s Jewish and the other’s a space alien.”

               “Oh, that’s lovely,”  Rahne said, “They’re such a grand couple…”

* * *

 

               A blast of rancid smoke and vapor erupted on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, and two figures emerged from it, shrouded in shadows.  One was cloven-hoofed, horned, gripping a sword.  The other tall and spare.

               “I thought you hated the B.A.M.F.”  The lean figure said.

               “I do.  But if I entered Limbo during this era, it could cause a civil war to break out… against myself.  Where’s the pentagram?”  The horned figure tightened its grip on the sword.

               “Over here.”  The lean figure said.  “Can you break it?”

               “I can, but it’ll be easier if we both do it.  Masterfully done, just like I taught him.”  The horned figure raised its sword and plunged it into the center of the pentacle.

               “Still proud of him, even after all this chaos?”  The lean figure said, before it curled two hands around the hilt of the blade, one bare, the other wearing a black and gold techno-organic gauntlet.

               “Because of, not despite.  Not just anyone could pull this off.”  The horned figure laid mailed hands over the spare figure’s.

               “I suppose you’re right.  On three.  One, two… three!”  The two both pulled on the blade at the same time—the ward resisted the pull, but as they pulled together, the soulsword dragged through the glyph, and it dissolved into nothingness.

               “Well.  Guess that’s our part in this little drama done with.”  The spare figure said.  “Say…”  His shadow looked up at the horned figure’s.  “…Wanna get married?”

               “Out of all the bad times that you’ve asked me that question, this has to be the _worst_ possible time.”  The horned figure put her hand on her hip.

               “I know, I always figured it made you feel better about telling me no.”  The spare figure crossed his arms.

               “…Well what if I said yes this time?”  The horned figure asked. “…Nicky always wanted us to get married.”  The figure paused.  “After all the darkness, our son could use a point of light.”

               “Well, okay then…Want to take in the view?”  The spare figure said.  “New York, as it was.  Plus, demons, and Avalon.”  He approached the railing with the horned figure and put an arm around her shoulders.

               After a moment, she leaned into him.  “You’re a fool, still a fool after all these years.”

               “Yeah,”  the spare figure said, “I’m a fool.  I’m a fool and you love me.”

               The horned figure snorted.

               “You loooooooooove me!”  The spare figure repeated.  “ _Sucker.”_

“I don’t want any sort of big affair.”  The horned figure said.  “And no _priests_.”

“Works for me.”  The spare figure said.  “We’ll have Kitty do it.  We’ll rent the old fire hall in Salem Center, get a couple of Danceatris games, and a whole bunch of sheet pizzas, cheap beer and mountain dew.  A karaoke setup…”

“You are such a _boy._ ”  The horned figure said, with an audible eyeroll, “Even after all these years.”  Then she leaned into the spare figure again.  “It sounds wonderful.  We can’t be those kids anymore, you know… it’s just like I told you.  Tonight, actually.”

               “Yeah, I know.  But we can pretend to be them, just for one night, ‘Yana, and that’s good enough for me.”  The spare figure tightened his arm around the horned figure.  “You know, it really is a shame what Stilt-Man did to the city in ’25.  The skyline was never the same.”

               “Tragic.”  The horned figure agreed, as she watched pinpricks of light among the buildings, as X.S.E. agents fought rampaging demons.  “…I do love you, you know.  I don’t tell you often enough.”

               “It’s okay.”  The spare figure said.  “I hear it every time you call me a fool.”

* * *

 

               All of a sudden, Illyana’s eyes glowed.  “ _Finally_.”  She said.  A stepping-disk erupted into light below her, and she vanished into it.

               “Avalon confirms it,”  Kestrel said, “Magus is in Madison Square Garden, guarded by an army of demons.”

               “So that’s it then,”  Bobby said.  “End of game.  And me with one card left to play.”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Fortunately, it’s a damn good card.”

               Magik re-appeared, rising out of another stepping-disk.  “It’s done.”

               “All right then.”  Bobby said.  “Everybody get ready.  We’re going in.”

               Doug cast a look at Illyana.  “’Yana—”

               Magik held up a hand.  “Later.”  Her gaze softened, briefly.  “…I promise.”

               Smasher looked down, and then she reached out and grabbed X-Wing’s arm.  “Joshie—”  She asked.

               X-Wing looked over, and then said, “…We have a lot to talk about, mom.”

               A stepping-disk engulfed the group.

* * *

 

At the center of the arena in Madison Square Garden, the Magus worked tirelessly, scribing glyphs and symbols into the floor.  Suspended in the air, an orb of fire turned and roiled.  Rusty raised his hands, making mechanical motions, controlling it.

               On the sidelines, Pilgrimm watched.  Gosamyr slavered onto the floor, her head bowed.

               Nearby, Empath circled around Cannonball, who stood, his shoulders slumped.  Luminous streams of blue energy crackled around him, binding him fast.  Empath’s eyes glowed.  “Do you hate me, Sam?”  He asked, a grin on his face.

               “I hate you with every fiber of my being,”  Sam said, his voice quiet.  “I loathe you.”

               “Good.  I want that hate to consume you.  I want you to want to kill me so badly you can _taste_ it.  I’ll stoke that fire until it burns you alive, Guthrie.  You’re going to die.  Your friends are going to die.  _This city is going to die_.  And there’s nothing you can do about it.”  Empath grinned, slowly, but then looked up, at a flash of golden light.  “What—”

               The New Mutants rose out of the stepping-disk.

               “…And here you are.”  The Magus said, standing up.  “Right on time to be at the epicenter of things as this city is dragged down into the dark.”

               Ru’Tai mongrels hissed and gibbered from the seats.

               “You’re surrounded!”  The Magus said, gesturing.  “Outnumbered!  You cannot stop what I’ve put in motion.”  He paused.  “Uncle Bobby… your daughter was one of Shuma-Gorath’s victims.  My best friend – I—”

               “Any child of mine would find your reasons for doing this highly specious, Magus,”  Citizen X said.  “And besides, if there’s one thing X-Men know, it’s that the future’s always in motion.   You’re not right in the head, son.”

               “Understatement,”  Xi’an said, under her breath.

               The Magus’s hands wavered, but then he stood up.  He yanked his hood back, and revealed himself fully; short blond hair, bloodshot eyes with dark circles under them, lean and trim but with a soft, boyish face hardened by grief-lines at the corners of his mouth and his eyes.

               “We’re going to stop you.”  Citizen X said. 

               The Magus spat.  “You and what army!?”

               More stepping-disks opened behind the New Mutants, and more and more figures rose into view.

               “Heyyyyyyyy,”  Boom-Boom said.  “Heard there was a big show at the Garden.  Front-row seats.”

               Warpath smirked.  “You guys look like crap.  But that still puts you one up on Empath, who actually _is_ crap.  Hey, Manuel.”

               …One stepping-disk at a time, more allies emerged.

               “ _…Funny you should ask._ ”  Citizen X said, before he adjusted the sleeve of his uniform jacket.  Kirby-dots glowed at the corners of his eyes, as they went white.

               Cypher turned, as Boom-Boom tapped him on the shoulder.  “Hey Dougie.”  She held up her phone.  “Can ya patch me into the Garden’s sound system?”

               “…Sure?”  Cypher took her phone, and after working with it an instant, handed it back to her.  “It’s all yours.  Why?”

               “Because I’ve always wanted to do this.”  Boom-Boom thumbed through an app on her phone, and then hit ‘Play’.

               Demons and X-Men alike looked up as the speakers came to life with a staccato drumbeat and a crunchy guitar riff.

               _‘It’s been getting so hard, livin’ with the things you do to me…’_

               The Magus turned away, and then looked up, eyes burning with madness.  “Enough.  _ENOUGH_!”

               _‘My dreams are getting’ so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…’_

               Empath backed up, slowly.  “Magus—”

               A voice called out of the group of mutants.  “RUSTY!”

               “…Sally?”  Rusty said, his voice sounding small and far away.

               A young woman with short blond hair dressed in gray fatigues pushed past Moonstar and Smasher. “I’m here, Rusty,”  Skids said, stepping out of the group.  “…I’m here to take you home.”

               “…I just want this to end.  I just want the pain to stop.  …KILL THEM!”  The Magus called, eyes wide and manic.  “KILL THEM ALL, AND BE DONE WITH IT!”

               The Ru’Tai lunged forward out of the stands, hissing and snapping.

               And the New Mutants and their allies met the tide head-on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the man in the back said "Everyone attack!"... hang on to your X-Badges for the penultimate chapter of our story -- sure, Madison Square Garden's technically an arena, but how could you call a throwdown like this anything but 'The Ballroom Blitz'!?


	6. The Ballroom Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final showdown! The Magus's madness is laid bare as the Future collides with the Present, with New York's soul in the balance!

_“Well,”_ Rictor said, as the X-Men and a tidal-wave of Ru’Tai demons met, “I always wanted to go on a date at the Garden with you, ‘Star.  I just wish it’d been to see Madonna like I asked.”

               Shatterstar speared a demon, and then shook it off.  “I’m having a lovely time, Julio!  And there’s nobody I’d rather fight an endless horde of demons with than you.”

               “Well now I’m all twitterpated—”  Rictor clenched his fist, blasting a leaping demon with a shockwave.   As he did, Rahne came surging by, dispatching another Ru’Tai demon with a swipe.

               “You okay, Rahney?”  Rictor said.

               “Yeh!”  Rahne said.  “Just takin’ out ma’ frustrations on these devil-spawn.”  She whirled and dispatched another.  She leaped into the demons, claws lashing out.  As she  attacked, Rictor heard her snarl.  “Dead.  Havok.  _Gay_.  Inappropriate… _Dead_.”  She turned, ichor dripping from her claws, “More!  AM STILL THINKIN’ BOUT ME SHITE LOVELIFE!”

               “Boy, remember when she was just an innocent slip of a girl?”  Rictor said, sotto voce, to Shatterstar.

               “To tell you the truth I prefer her like this.”  Shatterstar replied, also sotto voce.  “That hard edge is _much_ less cloying.”

               “I HEARD THAT!”  Rahne said, tearing after another demon.

               “Oh hey, ‘Star…”  Julio said, “Let’s go over there and fight the big one… with the grody death-ray necklace.”

               “…Good idea.”  Shatterstar said.

               Rahne looked over, and grinned, showing sharp teeth.  “HEY RICTOR!  YER GIANT MOHAWK MADE YE LOOK LIKE A TOOL!”  Then she lept back into the fray.

               “…Ow.”  Rictor said, looking briefly crestfallen.  “That one stung.”  Then he turned, shaking another Ru’Tai demon to the floor.

               In another part of the arena, Cypher lept over a railing, a pair of Ru’Tai mongrels in hot pursuit.  He turned, just in time for one to explode in a spray of purple ichor.  Its companion looked up, quizzically, before it got felled by another shot.

               Cable lowered an energy pistol, and then said “Ramsey.  Can you use a gun?”

               “Point and click interface.” Cypher replied, “Pretty simple.”

               Cable snorted, and tossed the gun at Cypher, who caught it out of the air.  He looked at it for a moment, and then said, “Cable.  Nate.”

               “Yeah?”  Cable grunted.

               Doug tossed the pistol back.  “…Do you have a bigger gun?”

               Cable snatched the pistol, paused, and then slowly, he grinned.  “I always knew one of you had their head screwed on right.”

               A moment later, Citizen X blasted away a demon, only for another to lunge at him from behind.  There was a sudden burr in the air, as an energy beam lanced across the chamber, and cut the demon in two.

               Across the way, Doug lowered the energy rifle he had to carry with both hands and waved.  “Hi Bobby!   I feel like I really _get_ Cable now!”

               Bobby laughed, and turned, catching another demon in mid-air before he hurled it across the room, where Doug blasted it out of the air.  Then both turned in unison and blasted a flying demon.

               “Two in the box!”  Cypher called.

               “Ready to go!”  Citizen X responded.

               “We be fast, AND THEY BE SLOW!”  Both howled in unison.

               Cypher looked up.  “Your path to Sam is open, Bobby!  Go!  I’ve got your back!”

               Citizen X gave a thumbs up, turned and ran for the stage at the edge of the arena.  “Sam!”  He called, as he lept onto it, “Rescue has arrived.”  He looked around, and said, “And I had tickets for Gaga, too.  Hope I can get a refund…”

               Magma had already on the stage, and was trying, fruitlessly, to break the web of energy trapping Cannonball.  “You had Gaga tickets.”  She said, accusingly, “And you didn’t tell me.  Any other secrets you’re keeping from me?”

               “Well, I might be dying?”  Bobby said, with a helpless grin.

               Amara paused.  “…That’s no excuse to not take me to see Mother Monster.”

               “…I was going to take you!”  Bobby said, “I intended to surprise you about an hour before the concert, so you’d have to panic and dress in a hurry.”

               Amara curled her lip.  “This _man_ ,”  she said to Sam.  “I tell you Guthrie, I should’ve just taken my shot at you when I had it.

               Sam set his jaw.  “Ain’t in a funnin’ mood, Amara.  Not at _all_.” 

               “Let me—”  Bobby said, before he applied a concentrated blast of energy to the bindings holding Sam.  They snapped, with a blue flash and a crackle.

               Sam stepped free and flexed his arms.  “Thank you.”  He said, before he reached up and pulled down his goggles.  “Now, I’m gonna kill me a rat, once and for all.”  He rocketed into the air.  “EMPATH!”  Cannonball called, “I’M COMIN’ FOR YOU!  END OF THE LINE!”

               “Oh…”  Citizen X said.

               “…Hell.”  Amara finished his statement.  “Manuel.  You _idiot_.  Bobby, we’ve got to stop Sam!”

               They took off, together.

               Nearby, Dani brandished her blade at Gosamyr, and narrowed his eyes.  “You’ve gone rabid, Gos,”  She said, “And the only merciful thing to do is put you down.”

               Gosamyr lunged, and Dani stepped back, striking out with her sword, and drawing a cut.  Gosamyr reared back, and then lashed out.  Dani countered the stroke, but the alien beast feinted, and struck out with her other claw – only to be knocked aside by Smasher, who leveled her with a punch.

               Smasher turned to look at Dani, as Gosamyr righted herself.  “We’ll have to take her together, Moonstar.  Ready?”

               Dani raised her sword.  “Ready.”

               They charged Gosamyr, together.

               “So.”  Warpath said to Boom-Boom, “Having fun, Tabby?”

               “A blast.” Boom-Boom said, before she flicked a plasmid into the mouth of an oncoming Ru’Tai.  “Tick, tick, tick…”  The alien exploded.

               Meanwhile, Cypher had entered the backstage area.  He held the gun against one shoulder and allowed himself a brief moment of indulgence in the relative quiet, before he turned a corner, and found Illyana standing, holding the Soulsword in a battle-ready stance.  He raised his eyebrows, and she put her finger to her lips. 

               “Come out, Witchfire.”  She called.  “It’s over.”

               A moment later, Witchfire emerged, clutching the wound in her abdomen.  She fixed her burning stare onto Magik. 

               “Even now, you blame me.”  Magik said.  “Hate me.  Rail against me.  You mewl and claim that I’ve stolen your birthright.”  She brandished the sword.  “Don’t you understand that if I _could_ , I’d surrender the Soulsword and Limbo to you this instant?”  She curled her lip.  “But what would you do with them, other than bring chaos and ruin?”  She stepped forward.  “Do you think I’ve fought tooth-and-nail, crushed rival after rival, manipulated friend and foe alike and arranged for the annihilation of the _elder gods themselves_ because I was power-hungry?” 

               Magik shook her head, and as she stalked Witchfire, silver liquid metal flowed over her body.  Horns sprouted from her forehead, and the Darkchylde stood revealed, beautiful and terrible.  “How simple-minded you are.  How _stupid_.  I cling to my dominion over Limbo because there _is no one else_ who would take on the burden who would not use the power there to bring suffering to the innocent.”

               “I will allow no one and nothing to dictate my destiny or my actions to me.”  Magik said.  “I will give up _nothing_ that is mine, yield _not one inch of ground_.  And I will draw on the strength of the people who love me to make sure that I never buckle, that I never, _ever_ break.  Who do you have keeping you strong, Witchfire?”  Magik lowered the soulsword.  “You have no one and nothing.  You _are_ nothing.  You were told to covet what I have, and so you do… but you have never once had a thought of your own.  Otherwise you would’ve wondered what I would throw away, if I had the chance… and what I would keep.  Are you so incapable of understanding what is truly valuable to me, and what is… _merely obligation_!?”

               Witchfire’s breath came in slow rasps, and a trickle of black blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.  She bowed her head, slowly.

               Illyana turned the soulsword, and held the flat of the blade toward Witchfire, who gripped it, blood boiling and smoking along the cold, clean supernal metal, before she kissed the flat of the weapon.

               “I swear, by my blood on the blade… you are the one true Queen of Limbo, by right of conquest.”  She looked away.  “Now and forever.  I relinquish all claim upon your throne.”  Red tears dripped from Witchfire’s eyes, and she boiled away into smoke.

               Magik turned to Doug, who watched in silence.  Eventually, she took him by the arm.  “We need to get back to the others.”

               Back out in the arena, Shatterstar grunted as he lunged at Pilgrimm, and the arch-demon swatted him aside.  It turned, as Rictor blasted it with a shockwave, and raised the Eye of Kierokk, blasting a chasm that opened in the concrete floor of the arena, as Shatterstar pulled Rictor backward and then lunged over the gap.  His blade lashed out, and as Pilgrimm jerked aside, it cut the chain on the eye, sending the medallion tumbling.

               “NO!”  Pilgrimm howled, turning and lunging for the Eye, “Pilgrimm will not lose the Eye of Kierokk again!”  It paused, as a section of the concrete floor suddenly flowed upward, transforming into Warlock, who clutched the broken chain from one hand, dangling the eye.

               “Encounter:round two.”  Warlock said, as Pilgrimm lunged.  Warlock transformed his free hand into a hammer, and struck Pilgrimm across the face, knocking the demon aside. 

               “This is for SelffriendSam,”  Warlock said, battering Pilgrimm across the face.  “This is for innocents/victims of SelffoePilgrimm!”  He struck the demon again, knocking it sprawling.  As it tried to rise, Warlock lashed out, knocking it down again.

Pilgrimm raised itself up once more, and Warlock morphed a hand into a blaster canon, knocking the demon back with a well-aimed shot.   “This is for Self-affiliation-family:X-Men!  And this… is for Self!”  He delivered another blow, smashing the demon to the ground.  “This is for Nation:U.S.A.!”  He lashed out, and grabbed the demon, lifting it up, and stared into its red eyes.  His face morphed, and suddenly Warlock was wearing a drill sergeant’s hat, mirrored sunglasses, and had a jutting chin.  “SelffoePilgrimm makes Self SICK!”  With a tremendous heave of techno-organic strength, he hurled Pilgrimm into the rent in the concrete floor.

               Rictor looked up, slyly, and then clenched his fist.  With a tremendous rumble, the floor around the hole collapsed, dumping tons of concrete and steel onto the demon.

               Warlock stood over the pit, eyes burning, mouth held in a wide, toothy clench.

               Rictor walked over and looked down into the hole, and then back up at Warlock.  “Bad ASS, ‘Lock.  …But Sgt. Slaughter?”

               “Self designated SelffoePilgrimm as Entity:Disgusting-Maggot-Puke and in need of a beat-down.”  Warlock replied.

               “…No argument here, dude.”  Rictor said.

               “EMPATH!”  Cannonball called, as he sailed over the arena.  He narrowed his eyes and shot downward.

               Empath looked up, and dread crossed his face.  He began to run, and then stumbled over a broken chair, turning and landing on his back.  Cannonball landed and grabbed him by the shirt.  “This is it for you,”  Sam said, dragging Empath toward a piece of broken rebar damaged during the fight.  “This is the day I finish what we should’ve done all those years ago—”

               “Guthrie… Sam,”  Empath clutched at Sam’s wrist.  “Please… no!”  His eyes glowed… but Sam ignored him.

               “Do you see, Manuel?”  Bobby said, landing nearby, “There’s no pity left in him, only anger!”

               “Roberto, HELP ME!”  Empath shrieked.

               Illyana and Doug appeared out of a stepping-disk nearby.  “So, Sam’s finally going to kill him?”  Illyana said.  “Good.  Finish him off, Sam.”

               “Cypher!”  Empath shrieked, kicking and struggling as Sam dragged him toward the rebar, “RAMSEY!  You spared me once.  You showed mercy!  MERCY!”

               Cypher looked at Illyana, and then back at Empath.  “…You haven’t learned anything, Manuel.  And the Doug Ramsey that showed you mercy died a long time ago.”

               “GOSAMYR!”  Empath screamed, “HELP ME!”

               There was a tremendous din and crash, as Gosamyr descended from the rafters, landing in a heap.  She lay still, as Smasher and Dani left the demon lie, and advanced to join the group.  “…Is this the rapist you told me about, Moonstar?”

               “That’s him.”  Moonstar said. 

               Smasher turned away.  “Sam’s killed people before, Empath.  People more innocent than you.”

               Sam gripped Manuel by the hair, his eye a fraction of an inch from the rebar… and then he stopped.

               Karma looked up, her eyes glowing, and Sam’s glowed in turn, as she held him fast.  He slowly lowered Empath to the ground, before he dropped him.  “Did you honestly think we’d let Sam soil himself by lowering himself to killing you?”  She looked to the others.  “Just a second while I break what Empath did to him.”

               Empath scrambled away, panting.  “This isn’t over.  THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR OVER!”

               ---

               A lone figure confronted the Magus on the dais.  “…Come on, Rusty.”  Sally Blevins said, holding her hand out.  “Come to me.  Time to go home.”

               “…He’s a puppet.”  The Magus said.  “He’s not alive, not really – he’s not real.  Let me show you—”  He raised his hand into a fist and Rusty raised his hands, to blast Sally – but then he stopped.  His hands, outstretched, trembled.

               “N-no.”  Rusty said, through gritted teeth.  “No.  I am not… a puppet—”

               Sally closed her eyes.  “This whole thing is pointless.”  Then she lashed out, and her force-field snaked out, beneath the Magus, who slipped and fell backward.  Sally advanced on him and said, “Nobody can tell what the future holds, son,” to the Magus.  “Joy and triumph… or pain and loneliness.”  She looked up to Rusty, and then said, “One day you’re everyone’s golden boy… and the next nobody remembers you’re alive.  It’s absurd.”

               The Magus tried to get to his feet, and Sally lashed out, knocking him to the ground again.  “I can see it in your eyes,”  she said.  “I’ve seen it in my own.  That haunted look, that comes from so much pain…”  She advanced, slowly.  “From missing someone so much that the pain never, ever goes away, that it eats you up fresh every day… that you think about ending it all in the hopes that maybe for a moment you’ll see that person again.”

               The Magus backed away, and then got to his feet.  His eyes narrowed, and he fired a bolt of crackling energy at Sally, staggering her.  Rusty turned and lunged, only to stop short, as the Magus raised his hand.

               Sally slowly climbed to her feet, visibly trembling.  “…But you know what sustained me, all that time?  The memory that behind all of that sorrow… all of that pain… was love.  If it wasn’t rooted in how much I loved that man…”  She pointed at Rusty, “It wouldn’t have hurt _so much_.  And that thought gave me the strength to go on.”

               She bent, to take Rusty’s head in her hands.  She brushed them over the livid black lines of techno-organic infection.  “…And that has not changed.  Don’t you love someone that much, Magus?  Isn’t that what this is about?”  She gestured, to the ruined, burning arena, to the demons battling the X-Men all around them.  “…See past the fever and the sorrow and look and see what you’ve _done_.”

               “…Nicky.”  X-Wing called, landing on the stage, carrying Kestrel with him.

               “…It’s over, buddy,”  Kestrel said.  “It’s time to go home.”

               The Magus shook his head, and got to his feet, energy blazing at his fingertips.  “I’ll take YOU ALL ON—”

               Slowly, the others climbed up after him.  “Son,”  Sam said, visibly exhausted, “…Give it up.”

               Dani leaned on her sword.  “…We don’t want to fight anymore, Nikolai.”

               Citizen X leaned on Magma, who held him up.  “…You really put us through the wringer, though.”

               Magik looked over to Cypher.  “I can feel it.  Can you see it?”

               “I can.”  Doug said, with a nod, “Like something holding onto him by the joints.  I don’t have a clear image of it.”

               “Xi’an,” Magik said, “Please link Doug’s mind and mine.  We need to borrow one another’s eyesight.”

               Karma nodded, once, and her eyes widened.  Magik and Cypher’s minds both began to glow… and in the darkness, a boy made out of copper and carbon and a silver demon saw one another clearly across the abyss, as their minds touched.  Together they looked, and they saw it, overlaying the Magus.  A sucking, tentacled thing, hooks and barbs dug into the young man, one hateful eye staring out, as its flesh was in the process of merging with the soul of the man. 

               “Star-Spawn of Shuma-Gorath.”  Magik said.

               “A cosmic parasite.”  Cypher echoed.

               “Feeding on pain.”  Magik said.

               “And driving its victim mad.”  Cypher responded.

               “…Is there anything ya can do about it?”  Wolfsbane asked, from a crouch.

               “…Yes.  I think so.”  Cypher said.  “It’s just a matter… of the right cut.”  He and Magik advanced together, and each gripped the hilt of the Soulsword.

               The Magus screamed, “NO!”  And fired a bolt of lightning… and the two brought the flat of the blade up, deflecting it, before continuing their advance.

               Acting in unison, they thrust the Soulsword forward, plunging the blade into the Magus’s forehead.  He screamed, until his voice broke, and the made a dry, agonized wail.  Together, Cypher and Magik twisted the blade, and then wrenched it forward, and as they did, the creature became visible.  Tendrils pulled free, emerging into the material world, and the parasite clung to the blade, wrapping itself around it, as pallid gray-green flesh boiled and burned at the touch of the blade.

               Finally, it twitched, and went still, and then dissolved into ichor, which boiled away.

               The Magus lay on the ground, twitching, eyes wide, unblinking, unseeing.

               “…Now it’s over.”  Magik said, as Karma disconnected their minds.

               “…Not quite.”  Empath said.  He stood up, holding the eye of Kierokk on its chain.  The talisman was large and clumsy in his hand, as he narrowed his eyes.  “It’s remarkable.  I can feel the power in this… thing whispering to me.  It’s time to die, fools—”  He held the eye up, and it glowed—and then writhing tendrils of red energy slithered forth from it, wrapping around Empath.  “What—NO!  NO!”

               Manuel de la Rocha was engulfed, and then he was gone.

               Magik curled her lip, and then said, “I knew that was going to happen if he tried to use the eye.  Which is exactly why I kept my mouth shut.” 

               As the arena cleared, the New Mutants’ other allies advanced on the stage.  Cable looked up at the glowing orb of fire, and said “Nascent dimensional portal… can you close it?”

               Illyana looked up.  “If I struck it with the Soulsword, the resulting  explosion of etheric energy would level Manhattan and sink the island.  And closing a portal this large is beyond my skills.  We’ll have to contain it until Doctor Strange comes back and can dismiss it.”

               Warpath shook demonic ichor off of one of his long knives.  “Hell of a fight.  I’ve had worse pre-games to a wedding.”

               Cable shouldered his rifle, and then smirked.  “Ramsey.”  He said, to Cypher, “…Keep the gun.  You might need it someday.”

               Meanwhile, Citizen X and Cannonball had approached Gosamyr.  Bobby reached out, and gently turned the alien’s head.  Warlock stood nearby and shook his head.  “Self can confirm that entity:Gosamyr no longer possesses lifeglow.  Status:deceased.”

               “…I wish it had ended better for you, beauty,”  Bobby whispered.  “But maybe, wherever you are, you’re with your family again.” 

               Sam turned away, his expression grim.  “She ain’t in any more pain, an’ we can bury her as a friend.”  He said.  “…An’ I need a shower an’ about two days of sleep.”  He looked to Smasher.  “An’ to tell our son how much I love him.”  As they departed, X.S.E. agents wearing colorful uniforms began to cordon off the arena.

               “Did you know about this future, Nate?”  Bobby asked, as they walked away, “About the X.S.E., about Avalon…?”

               Cable looked over at Bobby and said, “…I just didn’t want to give anyone false hope that this is the future they were going to get, when there are so many bad ones, da Costa.”

               “I suppose that’s fair.”  Bobby said.  “…But I think maybe this one’s given me a vision to build toward.”

               “…I can live with that.”  Cable said, as they walked out of the arena.

               Boom-Boom blew a pink bubble, and then popped it, before snapping her gum back into her mouth.  “So, hey, Cypher.”  She said, as the group stood outside, waiting for transport back to the school.  “Can I talk to you again for a sec?”

               “…What’s that, Tabitha?”  Doug asked.  His eyes widened, and he let out a startled noise, as Boom-Boom grabbed him, and kissed him hard on the mouth.  His arms flailed, before he put them on her shoulders, and gently pried her away.  He stared at her, in disbelief.

               Tabitha exhaled, and grinned, and then re-applied her lip gloss. “That’s what I thought.”  She said.  Then she looked to Warpath, who was sniggering, and Bobby and Sam, who stood agog.  “…Hat trick!”  She said, jubilantly, before she walked away, slapping Magma a discrete low-five as she passed.

               Illyana crossed her arms, and her ankles, and then curled her lip.  “…Remember to brush your teeth when you get home, Ramsey.”

               Doug looked at Illyana, rolled something around in his mouth, chewed, and then blew a pink bubble.

               “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—”  Bobby said, jubilantly.

               “…Egh, gross.”  Rahne said, sticking out her tongue.

               Sam just rolled his eyes upward, and smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing stories with huge ensembles like this are hard! And I didn't make things any easier on myself by adding even more characters into the mix. But at the same time, friends are people who've got your back when the whatsit's as thick as peanut butter.


	7. Painted By Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle done, all that's left is the fallout, for the New Mutants in the present, and the X.S.E. in the future. Sorrow and triumph mingle

               Debriefing was short after the X-Men returned to the school.  Shadowcat kept everyone around long enough only to obtain the essentials, before dismissing a battered, weary, grateful crowd to their beds.  “I’m going to take three showers,” she said to Ororo as they walked away, “I got demon slime in my hair.”

               “Self has expended large amounts of lifeglow today,”  Warlock said to Doug, as they sat together.  Warlock had extended a tendril of himself into a power outlet.  “Status:exhaustion.  Self will enter into a dormancy period momentarily for optimal recharge.”

               “…I feel the same way, buddy.”  Doug said.  He reached up, and embraced Warlock, hard.  “…Good night.” 

               After the group broke for the evening, Doug returned to his room.  He quietly stripped out of his filthy uniform, throwing it aside, and showered, first scalding hot, then icy cold.  As he toweled off, he noted the bruises purpling his ribs, and felt the ache in every joint.  He looked up, at his sunken-eyed reflection in the mirror.  “You look like hell.”  He said, to his reflection.  “…But you should see the other guy.”

               Despite his rapidly stiffening joints, sleep was quick to take him.

               A soft knock sounded from outside of Doug’s room.  Doug grunted, in reply, and it opened with a click.  Magik stepped inside and shut it behind her.  “Doug.”  She said, as she stepped inside, “I want to talk to you.”

               Doug shifted.  “I’d be happy to sit up and talk, ‘Yana,”  He said, his speech muffled by his pillow, “But I seem to have lost all ability to move under my own power.”

               Magik smirked.  “Of course you have.  You’re a mass of knots and bruises.”

               “Ow.”  Doug said, closing his eyes.  “Ow, ow, ow…”

               “Oh, quit being such a big baby.  You’ve been hurt worse.”  Illyana sat on the edge of the bed.

               “Yeah, but that time I was _dead,_ so I didn’t care.” Doug said.

               Illyana shook her head.  “Not funny.”  Then she relented, a bit.  “Well, it’s a _little_ funny.  Roll over onto your stomach.”

               With a grunt and some exertion, Doug flopped over.  “Ouch.”

               “Like I said, I wanted to talk to you.”  Illyana ran her hands over Doug’s back, slowly, and then leaned in, and began to work, attacking knots and bruises.

               “Mgnhggg.”  Doug said.  “Owwwwwooowwww--!”

               “Truly you are the soul of eloquence,”  Illyana said, as she drove her elbow into a knot of clenched muscle.  “Just enjoy it.”  She shook her hair back, and then went on, as she moved her elbow, and Doug’s back gave a satisfying POP and he sucked in a breath.  “…I suppose I wanted to talk to you about today.”

               “You mean that in some possible future, you and I have a kid?”  Doug said, closing his eyes.  “I know better than to put too much stock in any possible future.”  He exhaled.  “Right there, please,”  he said, with a breathy sigh, “Thank you.”

               Illyana ran her hands up and down Doug’s back, and then drove her fist into another knot, making him cringe.  “We share an experience, Doug.  We are both made in the image of two children who _died_.  The essence of who we were was held in trust by someone else – in your case by Warlock.  In mine…”  She paused, with her hands on his shoulderblades.  “Those _children_ died, and we are what’s left.  Do you understand?  We both are and are not them.”

               “I don’t know.”  Doug said.  “I’ve wrestled with that idea for a while.  Am I just a clone?  …An impostor trying to be a dead man?”

               Illyana’s fingers curled, and the massage grew slower, and gentler, as she kneaded skin and muscle.  “ _Exactly_.  Trying to pretend that it didn’t happen and continuing as we were is nothing more than a seductive trap.  It will kill us, if we let it.”

               Doug pushed his head up.  “Funny, you still hang around with Kitty and let Piotr call you ‘Snowflake’.”

               Illyana narrowed her eyes.  “I did say it was a seductive trap.  I tried to distance myself from the… Illyana-who-was.  To push away my brother, our friends.  The justifications don’t matter.  In the end, I failed.  But in failing, I learned to accept something – that I could build a new life, as the person I am now… and the people who loved the Illyana who died would still, by and large, want me.”

               Doug looked up, and then said, “Makes sense to me.”  He dropped his head back down.  “We were friends, once.  Close friends.  Or I guess I should say, that Doug and that Illyana were close.  …I would like it if we could try to rekindle that friendship, Illyana.”

               “She, or I suppose I should say I, was very fond of you.”  Illyana said.  “I liked your courage.  I liked the way you effortlessly charmed girls by playing the clown.  It was fun to watch.”

               “’Playing’ she says.”  Doug says, “And I seem to remember that it never worked on you.”

               “…It may have worked better than you think.”  Illyana said.  “If only you’d had the brains to be forthright about it.”

               Doug paused, and his eyes widened.  “Uh.”  He suddenly seemed to realize what was going on.

               “What I liked most,”  Illyana said, “Was that you didn’t treat me like something fragile, or an object of fear or mistrust.  Only you and Kitty trusted me like that.  And it meant a great deal to me.”

               Doug shifted, and rolled over, onto his side.  “I just… I treated you the way you wanted to be treated.  But I didn’t think—you weren’t interested in the romance games… and I… I was just a kid.”

               “Men tend to look at me like some kind of fetish pinup, or a conquest object, or like some sort of dominatrix.”  Illyana admitted.  “They see the Darkchylde and resign me to being nothing more than some sort of object of titillation.   And quite frankly…”  She sat, with her hands in her lap, “A man who thinks that way does not interest me.  Most men that I have met think that way.  More than a few women, as well.”

               Doug closed his eyes, and then opened them, meeting Illyana’s gaze. “Well I mean I’m not going to lie, ‘Yana.  You’ve always had a serious allure, in a heavy metal magazine pin-up kind of way.”  Then he thought about it for a moment and went on.  “But I liked being your friend.  It was… fun.”

               Illyana looked away, into the dark.  “Yes, it was.  It really was.”

               Doug shifted, and then reached up to touch Illyana on the arm.  “Hey.”  He raised his eyebrows.  “Friends, ‘Yana.  We’re friends.  You know that.”

               Illyana sighed.  “Doug Ramsey, you _fool_.  For all your powers of perception, sometimes you can be so _blind_.  We share both a prior closeness and a common experience.  You appreciate me enough as a _person_ not to fetishize the fact that sometimes I am a _literal demon_.  For once in your life, look me in the eye and _don’t miss the trick!_ ”  She leaned in and grabbed Doug’s face in both hands.

               Doug looked up with his face mushed between Illyana’s hands.  “Illyana—”  He said, “…Me?  _Really_?”

               “I need time to figure out exactly what ‘this’ is.”  Illyana said.  “It might just be a fancy, or a whim.  But it is a… whim that I am interested in exploring, in order to see how far it will go.  But I will do this at my own pace, and in my own time.  I will require three things from you – patience, friendship, and trust.”

               Doug pushed himself up and curled his legs under him.  “I’d never try to force you to do anything.  I know better than to ask for that kind of trouble.”

               Illyana considered that, and then said, “…Good boy.”

               Then she turned, and kissed him, and wound her hand into his hair. 

               Doug exhaled, when they pulled apart.  “ _Holy cats!”_

               “There _is_ a demon inside me, Doug.”  Illyana said.  “As you’re well aware.  So, I’m going to give you a choice… it suits my nature to do these things in threes.  One, I go back to my room, and this ends here.  Two, we sit and watch TV together, until we fall asleep.  Chaste, romantic… pleasant, if bland.  Or three…”  She leaned in and whispered in his ear. ” _Three is where you let the clockwork boy out, and I let the demon out, and we let them get to know one another._ Maybe just for tonight.  Maybe for longer.  But both of us learn something about the other.”

               Doug’s hand shot to Illyana’s and grabbed it.  He fell silent, and the silence stretched on into seconds.  He looked up, to meet her eyes.  “…Three.”  He said.   “I choose option three.”

               Illyana’s eyes lidded, cat-like, in the dark.  “Doug Ramsey, you _fool_.”  She grabbed him, fingers digging into his shoulders, and kissed him, again, and they embraced in the dark.

               …And it turned out that the demon and the clockwork boy found one another very, very agreeable.

               The next morning, Doug shuffled, zombie-like, into the Institute’s kitchen, in slippers and pajama bottoms and t-shirt, bleary-eyed.  He poured himself a mug of black coffee, and grabbed half of a grapefruit, before he shuffled into the dining room, sat stiff as a board, and smiled.  He blithely ignored the breakfast he’d put in front of himself.

               Bobby looked up from his captain crunch.  “…I know that look.”  He said.  “I _know_ that look.”  He leaned in.  “You _dog_.  _You dog_.”

               Doug cracked one eye open.  “Shut up, Bobby.”

               Illyana walked by, and said, casually, “Bobby.”  She paused, and smirked, and then gave Doug a push.  “Wake up, stupid.  Your coffee’s getting cold.”  She kept walking.

               Bobby’s mouth made an ‘o’, and his eyes went wide as saucers.  He pointed at the kitchen, where Illyana had gone, and then at Doug.  “I have questions.”

               “I’ll answer anything you ask me,”  Doug said, “…Except for ‘how was it?’”

               Bobby nodded, once.  “Right.”  He paused and let silence hang in the air.  “…So how was it?”

               Doug jammed his spoon into the grapefruit, just so, so that it squirted in Bobby’s eye.

               In the kitchen, Kitty was scowling, turning over an empty milk carton.  “I’ll have to send Kurt out to the bodega…” 

               Illyana walked in, and poured herself a cup of coffee, before loading it up with cream and sugar.  She sipped it, and then inhaled the scent of it, before she said, “…Good morning, Katya.”

               Kitty stopped short.  “Oh.  I know that look.  I _know_ that look.  That’s the ‘I got snu-snu’ look.  I’d recognize it anywhere, on anybody.  No… clarification, that’s the ‘I got _good_ snu-snu’ look.” She looked around, and then leaned in, to whisper in Illyana’s ear.  “Do _not_ hold out on me.  Who was it?”

               Illyana gave Kitty a sly side-eye.  She sipped her coffee again and turned to meet Kitty’s probing gaze.  “Don’t tell me you were never _curious_ , Kitty.  The big blue eyes, that cheeky smile.  That adventurous spirit.  Those nimble hands.  The _soft_ gold hair…”  Her eyes glinted.  “You sure you want me to go on?”

               Kitty put her hand over her mouth.  “Oh my _god_.”  She looked out toward the dining room, and then grabbed Illyana and dragged her aside, out of view of the doorway.  “No.  No _way_.  You’re telling me that my BFF the Demon Queen hooked up with my BFF the Dork Knight.”  She looked back at the dining room door, then back at Illyana.  “How was it?”

               Illyana considered this, for a moment, and then she leaned in to whisper in Kitty’s ear.

               Kitty listened, and then put her hand over her mouth.  “’Yana, that’s _gross_.  …Seriously?”  She canted a look at Illyana.  “You didn’t even have to ask him?”  She shook her head.  “…Nasty boy.  I’m never going to be able to  look at Doug the same way again.”

               Illyana rolled her eyes.  “Oh, Kitty.  _Grow up._ ”

               Later, out on the grounds, Izzy found herself looking up at Avalon, parked above the city.  The was as big as a Shi’ar superdreadnought, and to Izzy’s eyes seemed to carry many of the same technological features.  The Commander of the X.S.E. had, at a polite request of the mayor, moved the flying fortress out over the harbor, but the ship was still readily visible. 

               She looked up, as a conversation caught her ear.

               “…I told you, I have my best people looking at it, but I’ve just used myself up, Amara.  Unless something changes, eventually my body’s going to be unsustainable.  My organs will fail, and I’ll die.  And that’s it.”  Bobby said, walking behind Amara, who strode ahead of him.

               Amara turned on him, her eyes burning, and slapped Bobby hard enough that he staggered, and Izzy cringed.  “Unacceptable,”  she said, pointing her finger in his face, “I did _not_ give you permission to die, Roberto da Costa, and I swear to all the gods if you do that you will know no peace in the afterlife.”

               “Oh, so I need your permission to _die_ , now?”  Bobby asked, “That’s not something you have any control over, Amara.”

               Amara gave Bobby a flat look, with the corner of her mouth quirked.  “Try me!”  She turned and walked away, tossing her hair.

               As she passed by Izzy, Amara smirked, and then winked.

Bobby watched Amara walk away and rubbed his jaw with one hand.

               “What was that?”  Izzy asked, turning to watch Amara walk away.

               “That…”  Bobby said, “…Was Amara.  _Damnable woman_.”  He smiled, faintly, and then shook his head.  “Well, Izzy, excuse me, I have to place a phone call and make it very clear to someone that I’ve been expressly forbidden to die, at least any time soon.”

               “…Seriously?”  Izzy said, crossing her arms and staring after Bobby.

               “…What can I say?”  Bobby said, with an easy, fluid shrug, “She says she’ll come after me in the afterlife, and she means it—the devil himself is still trying to get with that, Izzy.  She is _not_ a woman you disappoint.”

               Izzy watched Bobby stroll off, and then turned, as a familiar figure descended, wreathed in fire.  Joshie was still dressed in his X.S.E. uniform, but had his helmet off, and though he looked tired, his eyes were clear and bright.  “Mom.”  Joshie said, “We need to talk for a minute.”

               “…Did you get everything worked out with your superiors?”  Izzy asked.  “Kestrel seemed to think you were in for it.”

               “Fired me like a shot.”  Joshie admitted, “The commander’s got my badge and if I so much as sneeze the wrong way before we leave it’s gonna land me in the brig.”  He held his hands out to his sides.  “All told the best possible ending to this mess.  I’ll land on my feet.  Maybe go back to the Empire for a few months, figure things out from there.  I have options.”  He looked around.  “Which is why nobody can see me give this to you.”  He slipped Izzy a brown envelope.

               “What’s this?”  Izzy asked.

               “It’s a message, for you.  And if the Director of Intelligence and the Commander find out I gave it to you, I’ll probably be court-martialed.”  Joshie cast his eyes downward.  “I can’t—really talk about it.  I don’t want to influence you either way.”  He looked up, and for a moment, his eyes were sad.  “You’ll do what you think is right.”  Then he looked around.  “The X.S.E. is rooting out the last of the Ru’Tai cairns.  Our intelligence projections say we’ll have this wrapped up by tonight.  …I gotta go, mom.”  Joshie made as if to take off, and then suddenly turned and grabbed her, hugging her, before rising into the air.  He was unable to meet her eyes, as he flew away.

               Izzy watched Joshie go, and then looked at the envelope in her hand.  She walked to a copse of trees overshadowing a bench in front of a pond, and sat, before she opened it up.  The first thing she found was a piece of paper, with a handwritten note.   She unfolded it and began to read.

               _You know that you lead a really surreal life when you write a letter to yourself that you remember reading two decades ago, and somehow you know you’ll get it right, word for word._

               _You know that he’s not going to leave you.  He’ll leave it all behind for you and for Joshie.  The Earth, the Avengers, the X-Men, all of it.  You also know that before today, that was what you wanted him to do.  That’s what a big part of you still wants him to do, though now that you’ve gotten to know his comrades, you finally get why they matter so much to him.  They’re insane, selfish, selfless, terrifying, courageous, and wonderful people… and Sam is one of them._

               _And he’s ready to leave it all behind, because he loves you._

               _But it’s just like Amara told you.  Love is not just what you’re willing to give up to make a partnership work.  A big part of this is also what you’re willing to see Sam give up.  You thought you knew how you felt about that… and now you’re not so sure._

_I’m not going to give you a window into the future.  It might turn out different for you than it did for me.  What I am going to do is show you something that might be.  It’s in the envelope.  When you see it, you’ll have your answer._

_You’ll never stop loving him.  And he’ll never stop loving you.  And he’ll be a great father, and Joshie will be an amazing son._

_And I am so, so sorry.  Because it’s going to hurt you both, so much.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do._

               “My handwriting.”  Izzy said, holding the letter in her hand, before she opened the envelope and reached into it.

               The feather was almost as long as her forearm, fresh and vivid, and as red as blood.  She curled her fingers around it, and thought about Sam, and their son, and then Izzy Kane, who was as tough and fearless as they come, and not given to tears…

               …Cried.

               Joshie descended onto Avalon’s landing deck, and waved a hand to Kestrel, who was there to meet him.

               “…You gave her the envelope.”  Kestrel said.

               “…Yeah.”  Joshie said, wiping away tears.  “Mom was right… it was the right thing to do.  Dad needs to be on Earth when…”

               Kestrel sighed, and then reached up.  She unclipped her helmet, and let it drop to the pavement.  She had short black hair, and olive skin, and stormy blue eyes, like Joshie’s.  She moved to embrace him, slowly.  “Hey.  _Hey_.  This isn’t new to you… this is your life.”

               “I’ve lost everything, Lucy.  I’ve lost Nicky, and I’ve lost my place in the X.S.E., I’ve lost Uncle Doug and Uncle Bobby’s respect… what’s dad going to say!?  I’ve been kicked out.  He’s going to be so ashamed.”

               “You haven’t lost me,”  Kestrel said.  “…And you know my mom will fight for you.  She’ll drag Uncle Bobby and Uncle Doug across the coals before she lets this one drop.  And I’ll make a case for you to be reinstated, too.  What’re stepmoms and little sisters _for_?  And I bet dad won’t be half as upset as you think he is.  I mean, he’ll be upset, sure… but probably just upset enough to fly straight out of his vegetable garden and back into Avalon to tell Uncle Doug and Uncle Bobby exactly what he thinks of them discharging you.  And besides… you know that they didn’t want to.”

               Joshie closed his eyes.  “Aw, Lu.  They didn’t have a choice.  I messed up.”

               “Yeah,”  Kestrel said, “You did.  You messed up bigtime, and you kept messing up.  But you messed up because you cared about people, and because you were trying to do the right thing.  That counts for something.”

               “How’s Nicky?”  Joshie said, looking away.

               “Better, but still not good.”  Kestrel said.  “He’s not delusional anymore, but he’s pretty heartbroken over everything that’s happened… and his mental state is fragile.  Uncle Doug and Aunt Illyana are going to send him to the lighthouse for a while, so he can rest.  Happy memories… you know.”

               “Can I see him?”  Joshie asked.

               Kestrel looked around, and then said, “…Uncle Doug and Aunt Illyana said they’d prefer it if you didn’t just yet.  But…”  She smirked, “I just think about what mom would do, so come on.  What’s the wrath of a Demon Queen to stand in the way of true love?”

               “Kestrel Lucinda Guthrie-Moonstar…”  Joshie said, as he followed after her, “You really are the best little sister ever.”

               Kestrel snorted.  “Don’t you forget it.  Don’t you ever forget it.”

               “Hup!”  Sam tossed Joshie up into the air – the boy laughed and floated, wreathed in flames, as his blast-field flared to life around him.  Then he dropped, into Sam’s waiting arms.  “Hup!”  Sam tossed him again.

               The door to the suite clicked open, and Izzy stepped inside.  She held out her arms, as Joshie flew into them, and wrapped him in a hug.

               “Hey, Beautiful.”  Sam said, leaning in to kiss Izzy, briefly.  “So, I figure we’ll stick around for a day after the wedding, then take Joshie out to Iowa to spend some time with his grandfather… then to Kentucky to spend some time with his mammaw and all his aunts an’ uncles, then back to the Empire.”

               “…Sam, I’m going to put Joshie down for his nap.”  Izzy said, her voice subdued, “Then we need to talk.”  She lifted the boy and cooed to him, before carrying him into the next room.  A short while later, she came back out.  “…Out like a light.  Not even here for a day and he already considers the place home.”

               Sam looked up, and then said, “…You wanted to talk.”  His expression darkened, and he got up to put his arms around her.  “What is it?  What’s the matter?”

               “Sam…”  Izzy closed her eyes.  “God, I love you.”  She inhaled, and then looked up, meeting his gaze.  “I love you… and it’s not going to work.”

               “Wha—”  Sam blinked, taken aback, “Girl, you ain’t talkin’ sense—”  He shook his head.  “This is a joke.”

               “No, Sam.  I’m finally seeing things clearly.  I love you… and I know you love me.  But there’s a metaphorical and literal galaxy between us.”

               “But that was all settled—”  Sam said, in protest, “I made my choice, Izzy!  I chose you!  You an’ Joshie and the Empire.”  He dropped his hands to his sides. “…Got that creepy tracking implant an’ everything.”

               “Sam,”  Izzy said, “Sometimes you get this faraway look in your eyes, and I know you’re thinking about Earth, and the X-Men, and your family here.  And I know you’re willing to give that up for me… but something Amara told me really stuck with me, Sam.  It’s not just about what you’re willing to give up for me… it’s also about what I’m willing to let you give up.  One or two weeks on Earth a year _if that_ isn’t going to be enough for you, Sam.”

               “But—”  Sam started, then he stopped, when Izzy held up her hand.

               “…I love you, Sam Guthrie.  I’ll love you till the day I die, and I love you enough to say this—we shouldn’t have gotten married.”  Izzy’s eyes were resolute, but sad, as she met Sam’s gaze – tears had started to well up in Sam’s.  “I can’t be happy on Earth.  Maybe you could be happy in the Empire… but _I_ have decided that cost is too high for you to pay.  Do you understand?”

               Sam’s voice broke.  “No.”  He said, “No, I DON’T understand—we can work this out!  We can… we can figure this out—”

               “There’s nothing to figure out.”  Izzy said.  “I’m… I’m going to go and pack.  I’ll… leave Joshie here until after… after the wedding, and you can take him down to Cumberland to spend a few days with his mammaw.”  Her voice grew thick.  “Then I’ll take him back out to Iowa with me and we’ll spend a few days with his grandpa.  In the meantime… after we’ve had a few days… we’ll figure this out.  But I don’t want to think about how we’re going to divide up our time with Joshie now.”

               She leaned up, and kissed Sam on the mouth.  He was too stunned to respond.  “Till the day I die, Sam Guthrie.”  Izzy said, before she quietly packed her bag, and left.  As she walked down the hall, she started to weep again.

               “So, I saw this gorgeous Givenchy gown and I was thinking about getting it, but do you think it’ll be too much?  I don’t want to upstage the bride at her wedding—”  Amara said to Xi’an, before they watched Izzy pass by, and stop.

               “Amara—”  Izzy said, “I just… I don’t want any of you to think any less of me.  I really… I’m really sorry.” 

               “…You’re confusing me.”  Amara said, blinking.  “Sorry for what?”

               “Amara… I’m going.”  Izzy looked up, tears brimming in her eyes, as she inhaled.  “You were right… and I’m going.”

               “Oh.”  Amara said, one hand lifted, before it dropped, slightly.  “ _Oh.”_   She looked up, and said, “…I’m very sad to hear that.  Before you go, I want to tell you something—”  She moved to embrace Izzy, and kiss her on the forehead, “There are ties that bind you to the rest of us, Isobel Kane.  We will always make a place for you; do you hear me?  And it would mean a great deal to me, personally, to call you friend.”

               Izzy inhaled, wet, and then nodded, once.  “I’ll text you.”  She said.  “But for right now… I can’t be here.”

               “I understand.”  Amara said.  “Be well.  Be safe.”

               Xi’an and Amara looked at each other, as Izzy departed.

               A moment later, the door to the suite clicked open again, and Xi’an slipped inside.  “Sam?”  She said.  She spied him sitting, numb, on the couch.  “Oh, _Sam._   I’m so sorry. _”_

               “She left me, Xi’an.”  Sam said, his voice quiet, disbelieving.  “…She just up and left me out of the blue.”  His eyes went far away.  “What did I do _wrong_?”

               Xi’an reached out and took Sam in her arms.  “Sammy…”  She said, “Sometimes nobody does anything _wrong_.”  She looked up at the door.  “Sometimes… people just make choices.  Izzy doesn’t—she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d do something without _reasons_.  But sometimes… those reasons just hurt so bad you can’t talk about them right away, you know?”

               ”…No.”  Sam said, his shoulders shaking, “…I don’t know at all!” 

               “…An honest answer, Sammy…”  Karma said, trying to soothe him.

               The door to the suite clicked open, and Rahne stared, silently.  “I saw the shuttle leavin’, but I couldnae believe Sammy would leave without a goodbye—and then Amara said he wasnae leavin’ at all.”  She put her hand on Sam’s shoulder, and then looked up, at the sound of an infant’s cry from the other room.  “Leave him tae me,” she said, softly, before she padded to see to Joshie.  “Dinnae cry, wee bairn, dinnae cry…!”

               The door opened again, and Dani paused, in the doorway.  Xi’an met her gaze and shook her head, and quietly mouthed ‘get Bobby’ before Dani looked away and closed the door again.  A few minutes later, Bobby slipped inside.  “Sam.  Hey.”  Xi’an got up, and left Sam’s side.  She slipped outside and shut the door, and found herself face to face with Doug, Warlock, and Illyana.  “She left him.”

               Illyana said, “…Then we’re of no help.”  But rather than depart, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

               The others looked at one another and then waited in solidarity, in quiet vigil for their grieving friend.

               The door to Nicky’s room in Avalon’s hospital opened with a hiss, and Kestrel stepped out of the doorway, standing aside.  She clutched her security keycard in one hand. “Make it quick.”  She said, “Uncle Doug’s going to find out you were here anyway, but I want enough time to clench before he tells Aunt Illyana.”

               Nicky sat up, blinking, his hands in his lap.  “…Joshie?”

               Joshie pushed his way in and said, “…Nicky.  I can’t stay long.”  He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “I heard you’re going to the Lighthouse for a while.”

               Nicky blinked, slow and liquid.  “I’m sorry I’m so… flat.  I’m really happy to see you… they’ve got me on a Techno-organic virus suppressant and some serious tranquilizers.”  He reached out and took Joshie’s hand in both of his.  “I am.  I’m excited to go.  It’ll be so good to see Uncle Brian and spend some time with Aunt Betsy… to just be able to rest.  To _sleep_.  Will you come see me there?”

               “I will.”  Joshie promised, touching his forehead to Nicky’s.  “I promise.  _I promise_.”

               In the director’s office, Doug Ramsey sat, watching the security footage of the hospital room.  He was tall, wiry and spare, with a short, neat moustache and goatee, still boyish despite the faint lines at the corners of hi eyes and mouth.  He drummed his fingers on the desk.

               A moment later, Illyana walked in.  Older, as cool and as smooth as ice, imperious despite her petite stature… she strode in and promptly sat in Doug’s lap. 

               “Oof.”  Doug said, before draping an arm lazily around her waist.  “They lasted about as long as you thought they would before they found their way back together.”

               Illyana’s smirk was wintry, as she leaned in to watch.  “I’m glad.”  Then she said, “Of course, I’m still going to terrorize Kestrel and Joshie for this.  I don’t brook disobedience.”  She paused.  “…Well, except from you.  You can get away with some disobedience.”  She leaned back.  “But only a little.”

               “Bobby’s planning to make sure Joshie’s discharge only lasts long enough to appease the Security Committee and satisfy all the proprieties.  He’s also got some scheme brewing about using it to lure Sam out of retirement.”

               “Good.”  Illyana said.  “He keeps coming up with things to do to convince himself he doesn’t hate being retired, and I’m tired of hearing Dani complain about it.”  She looked into the monitor at the two young men talking, and her expression softened.

               Doug snorted, and then he looked down at the monitor with her.  “…The king’s a beggar, now the play is done / All is well ended, if this suit be won / That you express content, which we will pay, / With strife to please you, day exceeding day; / Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts / Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.”

               Illyana straightened up and curled her lip.  Then she pushed herself up, turned, and pushed over Doug’s chair.

               “Oof!”  Doug said, from the floor of the office. “Ouch.  Geez, Illyana, I bit my tongue a little bit.”

               “…You earned that.”  After a moment, Illyana seemed to think better of it.  “…But it is so awfully _sexy_ when the Master of Language murmurs Shakespeare in your ear.”  She sank to the floor.  “I can put the fear into Kestrel and Josiah later.  For right now, you’re _mine_ , little man.”

               “ _…Wowie-zowie_.”  Doug said, in a shaky voice, rising up from the floor.

               “…Nerd.”  Illyana said.  “Come here.”

               “…Yes ma’am!”

               Outside, Bobby approached the doors to the office of the Director of Intelligence just in time to watch the holographic sign change to ‘IN A MEETING: DO NOT DISTURB.’  Bobby da Costa rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on his cane… before snatching it up and balancing it on one finger, as he walked away.  “And on and on it goes, ever so.”  He said, aloud.  “Romance and heartbreak, triumph and tragedy… life and death.”

               Bobby tossed the cane up into the air, and neatly caught it, his dark eyes shining, as he went back to work.

-Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And, barring the day I choose to go back and re-write this, it's done. I thought a lot about this chapter, about leaving stuff on the cutting-room floor, but in the end I decided to tell the story I was going to tell, and let you, good readers, be my judges.
> 
> As for what happened to Rusty and Skids after the end of the last chapter... well, that's just going to have to wait for another story, isn't it? ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Subject to revisions, there may be some minor continuity errors. Set in roughly the same time period as X-Continuity in early 2018, leading up to Kitty Pryde and Piotr Rasputin's wedding, and after Avengers: No Surrender.


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